A May to December Romance
by Positively 4th Street
Summary: My name is Isabella Swan and today, I signed a contract that would put me in the steel tight clutches of a man I didn't know, for four years. A girl's gotta pay for college somehow, right? AH. Come meet 'Sugar Daddy' Edward.
1. Chapter 1

_A May to December Romance_

**Stephanie Meyer owns Twilight, no copyright infringement intended. **

**Summary: My name is Isabella Swan and today, I signed a contract that would put me in the steel tight clutches of a man I didn't know, for four years. A girl's gotta pay for college somehow, right? AH. Come meet Sugar Daddy Edward.**

**- If the concept of sugar daddies or the idea of a large age gap in relationships offends you, then I would advise that this is not the fic for you. I'd ask that you keep an open mind and remember that this is **_**just **_**fiction; it's not to be taken seriously. **

**- I am not, under any circumstances, writing to romanticise this as an option to financial struggles or suggest that you, in any way, shape or form, go out and get yourself a sugar daddy – please don't do that. It's **_**just**_** fiction.**

* * *

'_Sugar Daddy' – a rich, usually older man who offers money or gifts to a less rich, usually younger person in return for companionship or sexual favours. _

_Chapter One_

I took a deep breath. I needed to do this. I had no other options. I was out of time. This was, as they say, the final straw. I needed this straw.

It was humiliating on a whole new level, but I swallowed my pride and clicked anyway. Sacrifices had to be made sometimes. In this case, I was waving a long goodbye to my self-respect, unsure of when exactly I would be seeing it again.

_**Welcome to Sugar Daddies. Net!**_

Christ. The banner was sparkling and flashing at me and everything. Give them credit where credit's due, they at least tried to make it look like any other normal internet dating site. They may have succeeded, were it not for the –barely legal– underwear clad girls pouting back at me, and the shirtless, well oiled abs of fifty year old men who made me simply cringe away in disgust.

People actually thought this was appealing?

_Shut up and deal with it_, _Swan!_ _You have to do this!_

I'd spent weeks tirelessly researching… _this_. My decrepit computer had been positively wheezing with every new URL that I'd opened up, searching for the best site to choose. I was deadly serious about needing to do this, I didn't want to spend the next few weeks chasing my own tail and warding off freaks. I needed a site that had some semblance of seriousness.

Apparently, _this_ was the site I needed.

_**You're just two clicks away from getting started!**_

_And a second away from wanting to shoot myself_, I thought dryly.

I entered the required information to get me started - a screen name, my email address and an account password. I tried for 'you-will-die-a-shameful-death', but it was over the allowed character limit.

_**Great, now let's get your profile set up and activated! **_

I wanted to sob, really I did.

I had never felt more ashamed of myself as I typed out the required fields in front of me. Never let it be said that Isabella Swan couldn't take one for her own team. It was just… degrading. These pieces of information they wanted, listing my attributes. It made me feel like a would-be prized cow at auction, all I needed was a damn bell to really grab some attention.

_**Our surveys show a 68% increased chance of success if you provide a profile picture!**_

_Of course they do. _

I wasn't embarrassed enough as it was, apparently. I now had to put a face to the whore. And that's exactly what I felt like – a whore. I couldn't think of a better way to describe myself right now.

I searched though my recent pictures, of which, there were few. Angela had taken what I supposed could be considered a nice picture of me the last time we had traipsed down to First Beach. I hadn't known she was taking it. I decided it would have to do. The one saving grace was that the picture had been taken at an angle, only the side of my face was visible and the sun had been shining that day.

I decided it looked 'arty'.

I loaded it, clicked finish and it was finally done. My profile had officially been activated.

_Now_ I could cry.

_**May to December's Profile! NEW USER!**_

**Name**: Isabella

**Age**: 18

**Birthday**: September 13th

**Location**: Washington

**Height**: 5'2"

**Weight**: 105 lbs

**Hair Colour**: Brown

**Eye Colour**: Brown

**Ethnicity**: Caucasian

**Looking for**: Someone to financially support me through four years of college.

**Offering**: To meet the individual's specified needs/wants in return for financial aid.

**Interests: **Reading, writing, cooking, music.

**About Me**:

- I have the opportunity to gain an Ivy League education, or as good as. I have narrowed my choices down to three institutions, all of which are ranked within the National top twelve. Two are based in Chicago and one in New York.

- For reasons that I will not go into, I have no way of financing my studies.

- This is all a little… alien to me. I am, generally speaking, very independent and like to stand on my own two feet. I am not accustomed to having to ask for help. However, my studies mean a great deal to me, and I am determined to obtain my college degree.

- While this is an incredible contradiction of terms, I am not a leech. I do not expect anything in the way of gifts/treats/being spoiled/pampered, etc. I'm quite able to support myself in regard to day to day living; unfortunately, finding $40,000+ for annual tuition is just a little over my head. Fun to be poor, huh? :)

- Other than that, my passion is classic literature, I abhor text speak, enjoy good food, wish I could travel more and am allergic to cats.

_**To contact this user, please click here!**_

Within five minutes, I'd been swamped with twenty-six emails. My favourites of which included such lines as:

'I'd love to take care of you sweetness; daddy has a lotta lovin' for his baby!'

And…

'I've gotta a big package to match that rather large $40K little girl ;)'

And my personal favourite…

"My God, I think I just came. You're a virgin, aren't you? I bet you're a virgin. Want daddy to pop that cherry of yours angel face?'

I felt like vomiting.

Yes, I was determined. But no, I wasn't prepared.

I waited two weeks for the reply I'd scarcely allowed myself to hope for.


	2. Chapter 2

**Stephanie Meyer owns Twilight, no copyright infringement intended. **

**Thank you for all the reviews! I haven't responded – I am still trying to get 'into the swing of things' with this one, so I promise, once I am all on track, I'll get around to replying. I'm working on another story as well right now, so just bare with me until I've found my feet. I need to work out some form of schedule between the two so that I can tell people which days I'll be updating, but I'm hoping I can do once a week for each story. **

**Let's see if I can keep you all with me… **

**

* * *

**

'May-December Romance' - a relationship in which the age difference between the two adults is wide enough to risk social disapproval.

_Chapter Two_

This was… odd.

He had no profile. And I don't mean that in the 'he hasn't even _bothered_ to fill it in' sense. There was just… nothing. There was no link to filter back to his page. He didn't _have_ a page. He didn't have a screen name. Lord, I couldn't even see a return email address. It was just blank. Not even a 'user unknown', just… nothing.

I was very nearly for just ignoring it, but the title of his email caught my eye.

'_A rarity, if ever I saw one._'

Frowning, and more than a little intrigued, I opened it.

And holy crap on a cracker! There were more than fifty typed words staring back at me. In fact, it looked as though he'd written an entire scripture when you compared it against everything else I had received. Scanning the passages briefly, I couldn't pick out any 'daddy's little girl' comments, or a 'come take a ride on my…', or even a 'YOU'RE FREAKIN' HOT!'

It had been a tiresome two weeks.

Was I finally about to catch a break? Was it possible, that somewhere out there, lurking… was a man actually worthy of a conversation? A man who could write a sentence without including words that related to genitalia? I'll be the first to admit, that after my short and somewhat limited experience on this site, I was doubtful.

(*)

**To:** May to December

**Sent**: 16 August

**Time**: 10:17

_Dear Isabella. _

_You may very well have just reaffirmed my faith in the female race. Not a single sentence written about 'wants', or 'demands', or even 'expectations'. What a breath of fresh air, if I may coin a phrase. Are you real? I shall be most disappointed if I find out that I have responded to some pre-teen computer nerd who is making use of his parent's empty basement. _

_I think yours is, by way of an honest admission, the first… genuine profile I have ever had the pleasure to read. And I have no doubt in my mind that I am, in all likelihood; fighting my way through many, many emails currently sat in your inbox. _

_Perhaps I should offer up a little bit about myself, seeing as I have you at the disadvantage so far?_

_My name is Edward, I am thirty-nine years old, and I am… wary of noting where I stay just yet. I would much rather hear your preference of institutions before revealing which of the two cities I live in. What would you rather, Isabella, the Big Apple or the Windy City? Please don't feel apprehensive about answering either way, I may, after all, just be tempted to make a sudden move…_

_The mention of your love for classic literature has piqued my interest; can I dare to presume that you are hoping to study in this field? Or are you about to surprise me (again) by informing me that you've applied to do Zoology? _

_I must admit, I have a rather extensive collection of books, though I hardly find the time to read any of them. It seems to be that way with most of my hobbies recently, there just never appears to be enough hours in the day. I tend to keep exceptionally busy with work, and unfortunately, it's taking a toll on my out of hour's time. But when the world isn't flogging me like a workhorse, I enjoy travelling, sailing and have a passion for photography._

_You don't seem the type to be all that impressed with talk of materialism, so perhaps a more… academic approach would suit? I attended two Ivy League Colleges, the first of which I gained my degree in environmental studies, and the second, I worked towards a masters in architecture. I began an internship not long after the completion of my final degree at a small firm and quickly made my way 'up the ranks'. I now find myself in a very comfortable position at this point in my life, so it's safe to say the hard work has definitely paid off. Though, I would appreciate a few more holidays. _

_I can certainly sympathise with your position, Isabella, given that I fought extremely hard to be granted scholarships many years ago, to further my own education. That is not meant to sound patronising, but understanding. It is never easy wading through the unending U-turns that life throws at you, and sadly, it doesn't get any easier the older you get. _

_I would like very much to hear from you. Consider this one older man… curious. _

_Yours, _

_Edward. _

_P.S. It seems only fair that you should have a picture to match the words. _

(*)

Jesus Christ, an intellectual. Surely not?

I scrolled down, suddenly very eager to see him.

I fell off my chair.

No. No way. This was a joke. It had to be. His mention of the geeky, basement nerd shot straight into my head, and I surmised that that just had to be it. Someone was toying with me. Some little blighter had sourced a random picture from an old GQ magazine, and was sat with a dictionary in hand, making themselves sound entirely too good to be true.

People don't get that lucky. _I_ have never been _that_ lucky.

He was… was…words failed me.

He was a _beautiful_ man. Handsome didn't quite cut it. No. This man, this image staring at me from above, was _beautiful_.

And there I was, a crumpled heap on the floor, needing to pick stale cheerio's out of my hair from this morning's breakfast, because taking the bowl downstairs this morning was naturally too much effort, and fate clearly wished for me to dump the bowl over myself at a later point in the day when I had another 'accident'.

I had a feeling Edward McBeauty Personified would take that email back in a flash if he could catch a glimpse of me in my current state.

I mean, is it natural to look like that? Did some deity I was unaware of have a small group created from a very special, very select gene pool of pure Godliness? Looks like that… couldn't be normal. He was almost… ethereal. And he had contacted _me_?

_Maybe he's blind_!

Hmm. That made sense.

Yes. That had to be it. He was blind. A blind man who was perhaps feeling a little cut off from society and in need of some reassurance.

_From an eighteen year old female_…?

I ignored that thought.

I could take a momentary break from my desperate search to give this beautiful, blind man a little feel good, could I not? Well, I mean, if he really was a man, and not some eleven year old in a damp basement.

I dragged myself back up and hit reply, settling back into my chair and forgetting all about my cheerio hair for the time being.

And just to cover my tracks, I typed in the following title:

_'If __**you're**__ a pre-teen computer nerd who is making use of his parent's empty basement, then shame on you and off to bed! It's late.' _

Right. That sorted that.

(*)

**Date**: 16 August

**Time**: 21:37

**From**: May to December

_Dear Edward._

_Thank you for the email, it was a refreshing read. And I can confirm that I am real, female, and definitely not stuck in a basement with a laptop. Boo for you, huh?_

_I feel I must correct you on one of your points, because I have stipulated one 'want'. I 'want' my education. Very bad of me, I know. But I am nothing if not determined. _

_As far as the 'which institution?' goes, I have always leant more towards Columbia in New York. Call me a snob, but it is a genuine Ivy League college, not just considered to be 'as good'. Again, very bad of me. _

_You presumed correct, I have applied to the English department there to study the subject - it has always been my favourite academic area. I've… flourished somewhat over the years and continued to build on my knowledge of the subject, and it just seems like the right path to take. I couldn't imagine opting to do anything other than English. It wouldn't feel right. _

_Travelling, sailing and photography? Why Edward, are we one for the expensive hobbies variety? Goodness. Makes my 'reading' contribution sound frightfully dull in comparison. _

_And no, I'm not generally one for valuing materialism. I remember reading once that a person should have 'everything they need, and a little of what they want'. It must have stuck with me. Having twenty of the same thing in an assortment of varying colours, whilst I'm sure is lovely, is really quite unnecessary. _

_You did a master's as well? I'm green with envy. Somehow I'm not sure my luck will extend quite that far, but you never know. _

_Luckily my fight over a scholarship was short lived. They just said 'no'. Maybe I could sue…?_

_So Edward, you appear far too perfect a being to me. What's the catch? Webbed feet? Spider veins? Third, forth or even a fifth nipple? _

_I'll await to hear the shocking downfall of your perfection with eager anticipation. _

_Yours, _

_Bella. _

(*)

I hit send and watched as the 'message delivered' notification promptly shot up. Where it was being delivered to, I had no idea. I'd just have to pray the receiver wasn't an infant. That would certainly crush my already shaky self-esteem. And I would probably go to jail for soliciting with a minor. Not all that appealing, if I'm being honest.

I read through his email one last time. Thirty-nine. A whole twenty-one years my senior. He was my lifetime and a toddler older than me.

But he was interesting. And witty. And clearly had a brain. These were _good_ things.

And my God, if that really was him in the picture, then I'd surely swoon for good. _Adonis_ didn't quite sell him well enough.

He looked his thirty-nine years… and he didn't. He kept himself in shape, and neat, that much was apparent. He was smiling brightly at the camera, hinting towards some deepened lines surrounding the corners of his eyes and mouth. But they were happy lines. The lines of a man who seemingly had a very rich, very fulfilling life.

His smile was the sort that made you want to smile right back. It was just… lovely and it lit up his whole face. His eyes were a striking shade of green; they sparkled brightly in the picture and shone with cheerful purpose. But perhaps the most arresting of his physical traits was his hair. It was the strangest colour. It wasn't brown, or gold, or red. It was a blend of all three, making it appear somewhat… bronzed. Almost as if somebody had taken a pot of copper paint to it. He had it cut to a relatively short length, but even then, there seemed to be an ongoing sense of complete disarray to it. Like… bed hair, that had been styled a little to look rugged. Although even from where I was sat, there was nothing visibly styled about it. I had a feeling Edward's hair was generally just… so.

His skin was smooth and somewhat pale, but not overly so. His complexion was fresh, clean and shaven. All in all, it hurt to look at him. Unleashing _that_ onto the female population just wasn't playing fair.

Sighing, I logged out of my account and clicked off of the window, tapping the button to boot the computer down. I could practically hear it singing its thanks.

I stood and made my way into the bathroom, picking cheerio loops out of my hair as I went. It was hard work being this 'special'.

I climbed into the old, blue tub having switched on the shower, and stood, basking in the hot water. I shampooed twice, shaved and clambered out just as the shower head threatened to unleash a sudden cold bomb right on top of me.

I left my hair to dry naturally, bunny hopped my way into some pyjamas and settled down for the night. I had to be up early in the morning. My shift at Newton's was starting an hour earlier than normal for stock checks. Still, I couldn't complain. Every dime counted at this point.

(*)

My day had been nothing short of a disaster. I had had one snotty customer after another verbally lashing out at me for various things being out of stock, or in the 'wrong' colour, and at one point; I received quite the oral whipping for not selling 'doggie warmers'. That's coats for _dogs_, to you and I. It had been made abundantly clear, that even as just a simple employee of Newton's; I should have exuded some power over these occurrences and then been able to magic items out of thin air.

I would never be so glad to leave a place behind. I just prayed that my meal ticket out of here hurried along – preferably before I beat a customer to death with a clothes hanger.

I was relieved to find Charlie, my 'father', to all intents and lacklustre purposes, was not at home when I arrived. I managed to make my way in, reheat some left over lasagne and head upstairs without having to see him. That was a point in the 'good day' box, at least. And they do say some mercy's come in small packages. Or perhaps I've just completely invented that and living here with Charlie has finally driven me batty. Who knows.

I checked my phone messages, of which, there were three - one from Angela reminding me of our impending trip to Port Angeles tomorrow afternoon, and two from colleges, reminding me that I still hadn't informed them of my decision. I had the good mind to ring them back and explain that they would have had my decision months ago, had they granted me a scholarship. I held off doing so. They were already being uncommonly patient with me. It seemed as though all three of the universities, despite not offering anything in the way of financial aid, all wanted me. My glowing letters of recommendation and then the submitting of several pieces of my own work were biding me much more time then normally would have been allowed. In fact, I had spoken with each department head from my final three choices, and each one seemed rather eager to gobble me up for themselves. It was _something_, at least. Now all I had to do was magic up $160,000 for tuition.

The thought was… depressing.

I switched my computer on, knowing it would take roughly seven days to finally come to life, and plopped down into my old desk chair to eat. The mean machine began to wheeze and stutter, clearly not very amused at having been woken up from its slumber. I gave it a quick, supportive pat. I shouldn't have. I think it _growled_ at me.

I had made a small dent in the lasagne by the time I opened up my internet window. I really wasn't feeling very hungry. The stress of the past few weeks, and the uncertainty currently clouding my life, saw me frequently loosing my appetite. And if I wasn't careful, I would soon need to drastically re-toggle the 'weight' part of my profile. I was one missed meal away from looking emaciated.

Groaning, I typed in the dreaded web address. I was instantly assaulted by half naked women. I'm saddened to say that this was the least painful part of the process. With my username and password entered, I hit 'sign in' and felt the shame wash over me yet again. I was going to hell for this. Most definitely.

_**Forty-three new messages!**_

_Can't wait_, I thought sarcastically.

I opened the first.

'Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I just keep walking by sugar lips?'

I began flagging the lot as spam after that. Served them all right.

My breath caught when I noticed a distinctive email sat amongst the rubbish. There was no sender listed, just like _his_ last message, the one from the God. Only this one didn't have a title either. Praying that it wasn't some kind of computer virus ready to strike, I opened it up.

(*)

**To:** May to December

**Sent**: 17 August

**Time**: 16:30

_Have I scared you away?_

(*)

That was it. That was all that there was. And it made no sense.

Coming out of the email and back to my inbox, I scanned my way through the other messages.

And there it was - the last, or should I say the very first email, right at the bottom. No sender. Just the title.

_'No basement nerd this end, I can assure you.'_

I clicked 'read' straight away.

(*)

**To:** May to December

**Sent**: 16 August

**Time**: 21:52

_Dear Isabella. _

_You have officially made my day by responding. _

_I am very pleased to hear you are real, and of the female variety, and not some strange boy in a basement. Music to my ears, I can assure you. _

_Your determination to continue with your studies is… admirable, at the very least. It is something that is rarely seen anymore, and for that, I can do nothing but hold you in the very highest of regards. _

_Luck as it would seem, is on my side. I am in New York. It is a very diverting city, I think, should you choose it as your option, you will like it a great deal. Although one thing does concern me, Isabella. You say Columbia is your first choice? Are you not only a matter of weeks away from starting? I'm Columbia bred myself, and am familiar with the school's policies. Unless I am mistaken, the very last deadline for final acceptance was August ninth, was it not? _

_Ah, you caught me. I do indeed like to indulge in expensive hobbies. It is a guilty pleasure that I have the good fortune to afford. Does that make me 'very bad?'_

_I hope you decide not to sue. They may very well give in to your demands and you will have no desire, or no need, to continue conversing with me. And what a sad day that will be. _

_The catch? Hmm. Well, my feet are most definitely not webbed, I have no spider veins to date, and I can assure you, there are just the two nipples. Wouldn't want to be greedy now, would I? And I can assure you, that whilst your comment regarding perfection was very flattering indeed, it is most unwarranted. I am far from perfect. Though I am not stupid enough to list my… bad points. I am enjoying talking to you far too much; I wouldn't want to scare you away. _

_Yours, _

_Edward._

(*)

Gosh, his response had been quick last night. I hadn't anticipated that. And there was no mention of any blindness. Perhaps… perhaps that _was_ him.

Could I dare to hope?

I hit reply.

(*)

**Date**: 17 August

**Time**: 18:26

**From**: May to December

_Dear Edward._

_Apologies for the late reply. I was early to bed last night – I was working all day today and had to be up at an ungodly hour this morning. _

_Yes, New York has always appealed. I am somewhat of a small fish and have grown up in relatively backwater towns over the years. I suppose you could say I yearn for a bigger pond to swim in. _

_The last cut off for Columbia was indeed the ninth; however, the head of the English department has shown me a little more leniency. I believe my time will officially be up by the end of the week though. Such is life. _

_No, I don't think it makes you bad at all. People should always take an active interest in doing the things that they enjoy. And if you can afford it, and your hobbies keep you engaged, then why on earth not?_

_Alright, consider me swayed. I shall not sue._

_I am, as ever, intrigued to hear of these bad points, Edward. And considering you have just talked me out of nabbing a much needed scholarship, I believe I am owed some form of compensation. So c'mon… fess up!_

_Yours,_

_Bella_

(*)

I left my computer on this time, curious to see if his response would be quite so swift.

Standing, I made my way downstairs to dispose of my dishes, washed them quickly and made myself something to drink. I was pretty much set for the evening; hopefully I wouldn't need to come downstairs again, and I could escape Charlie for another night.

My computer screen was flashing at me when I returned to my bedroom, and I closed my door completely shut. Upon closer inspection, it appeared that Edward was indeed, quick to reply.

(*)

**To:** May to December

**Sent**: 17 August

**Time**: 18:32

_What is your surname, Isabella?_

(*)

Eh?

I mean… eh?

What did he need my surname for? I didn't know this man, why would he ask such a thing? And so soon? Was that… normal? Surely not.

(*)

**Date**: 17 August

**Time**: 18:37

**From**: May to December

_Um, may I ask why you want it, Edward?_

(*)

His response was instant. And I mean, I blinked – and there was a new message.

My poor computer, relic that it was, would not be all too pleased with me right now.

(*)

**To:** May to December

**Sent**: 17 August

**Time**: 18:38

_My intentions are not bad, Isabella. I can assure you. But I do need your surname._

_Mine is Cullen, if it would put you at ease to know it. _

(*)

It didn't.

There was no need for this man to want to know that. Wasn't it, I don't know, a bit creepy – him asking?

I stared at the screen for the longest time, frowning. Was this the catch? Was he some mental patient that thrived on making young girls feel uncomfortable, by first luring them in with his wicked charm, and then lunging for the kill?

Sicko.

I wasn't stupid. I read the newspapers. There was always a risk of something like this happening. Had I fallen pray to a predator?

My screen binged again, and I scowled when I 'saw' that it was from him.

Reluctantly, I pulled the email open.

(*)

**To:** May to December

**Sent**: 17 August

**Time**: 18:43

_Isabella, believe me, I am not asking to make you feel uncomfortable. _

_I have connections at Columbia and I just wanted to gain you a little more time, that is all. Someone as bright and as willing to learn as you should not have to sacrifice their future simply because they have fallen through some unfortunate cracks in the education system. I know from past experience, it can be very tiring fighting your way back up. I merely want to help._

_I don't however; want to be a source of unease for you. You are certainly under no obligation to tell me, and I won't push for it if you don't want to. _

_I was simply offering a hand, little fish. _

(*)

My eyes began to sting.

_Little fish_ – that was me.

But it wasn't possible. Surely this… this stranger, was a figment of my imagination? I had never had any kind of luck before now, so what was this? A colourful, well timed turn of events? Had fate intervened, and stopped throwing a spanner in my works, only to replace it with…what? A silver spoon? Things like _this_ do not happen to people like _me_. They just… didn't. The Cinderella story was just that – a story.

But I had three days. Three pathetic days to give them all an answer. And I think I would die a little inside if that answer had to be, 'no, I cannot come and study with you'. My dreams would be flushed away, and for good this time.

People often spoke of 'taking a leap of faith', could I do that? At this point, I didn't really seem to have much to loose. This was it. I had reached the tie breaker.

Steeling myself, I took a deep breath.

_Nothing to loose_…

(*)

**Date**: 17 August

**Time**: 18:48

**From**: May to December

_Swan. My name is Isabella Marie Swan. _

(*)

I didn't get an instant response this time. In fact, it all went very quiet for the next hour. And it was the longest hour of my life. I felt like I'd just played my last hand, and I was waiting for the best poker face across from me… to reveal his ace.

My computer dinged.

(*)

**To:** May to December

**Sent**: 17 August

**Time**: 19:56

_You have a little time, Miss Swan. _

_We however, do not. If you're serious about doing this, than I would like to make a suggestion. _

_I am in Seattle next Monday (23__rd__) overseeing a new project and I would like to meet. I have a proposition for you. _

_Google may help to fill in some blanks that I do not have the time to do myself right now. _

_Yours, _

_Edward. _

(*)

My breath caught.

Holy crow, was I really doing this? Was this really… happening?

* * *

**Thoughts?**

**Edward has a proposition... *melts***


	3. Chapter 3

**Stephanie Meyer owns Twilight, no copyright infringement intended. **

**You guys are making me blush. Thank you so much for the reviews, and of course, all of the favs/alerts/c2's that have been added. Madness!**

**Who wants to meet Edward? **

**Oh well… alright then. **

**

* * *

**

"We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars."

~ Oscar Wilde, Lady Windermere's Fan, 1893

_Chapter Three_

Edward Cullen had his own Wiki page. A _Wiki_ page. For the love of God. I was… _horrified_.

**Edward Anthony Cullen** (born 20 June 1971) is an American architect who is the sole owner of the world renowned company, Cullen Architecture. He is perhaps the most prolific American builder of modern eco friendly office builds, and is celebrated in his field for being a master of classic renovations.

**Biography**

The events surrounding Cullen's birth are somewhat hazy, though we know he was adopted by Dr Carlisle Cullen and his wife, Esme, during the very early stages of his infancy. His biological parents are unknown. He has one younger adopted sibling, Rosalie McCarty nee Cullen. Leaving school at 18, Cullen was notably gifted and graduated valedictorian. He attended Brown University where he attained a BSc in Environmental Studies with full honours. Following that, he graduated from Columbia University with an MA in Architecture. After completion of his studies, he began an internship at Spears and Partners, a relatively small and unheard of architecture firm in New York City. Rumour has always had it that Cullen turned down several prestigious offers to work at larger, more established firms, and instead opted to employ himself at Spears, a family run, partnership business. Within two years, Cullen had made his way to the top and was considered to be their 'shining star'. A year later, in 1998, he took over management of the firm and renamed it Cullen Architecture. By the year 2000, Cullen had built a new site for his ever expanding firm in the heart of Manhattan, and by 2003 he had offices set up in London, Paris, Japan and Sydney. He has never married and is to date, one of New York's most eligible bachelors.

(*)

It had gone on to detail all about his company, the newest offices he had opened up in various parts of the world, and listed every award he had ever won, of which, there were many. Then there were his upcoming projects and the locations for each new site. And lastly, lastly came the list of every building he had every designed, built, and renovated. That particular list compromised over two thirds of the entire page. And it was a long, long page. Half of the buildings on the screen - I had heard of. The last and most recent entry had been on the news not three weeks ago. Something about him doing the 'impossible' with a semi-circular shaped building that was being constructed in, wait for it… Seattle. I had been thrashing myself for a good few days for not putting two and two together sooner.

Edward's company were also behind the renovations that had just taken place at Columbia University over the summer, in preperation for the fall intake. That's right. The buildings I could _potentially_ be spending the next four years of my life learning in, had just been 'touched up' by Cullen Architecture. When he said he had 'connections' at Columbia, I hadn't initially realised _just_ how loaded that statement had been. I could only imagine how much gushing was going on over in their Department of Architecture, what with one of their _own_ taking on the project.

By the end of my reading, my jaw hurt from gaping so much. Mr Cullen was a truly accomplished man. And what could I do? Read well.

That was the man I had been conversing with for the past week. I felt ill every time I thought of it. This man, this… God on earth, who by the sounds of things, happened to have built over half of the buildings on the ruddy planet, had contacted _me_. Allow me a brief moment to try and explain my feelings.

Me – little fish.

Him – whale.

I was… unbelievably uncomfortable. I felt out of sorts and way in over my head. And he was making it worse. Because he was just so… lovely. And I didn't like it. It made me feel strange.

Edward had kept in regular contact; I had received an email from him every day. His witty banter and sharp mind were welcoming distractions from the drudgery that is everyday life. He seemed to be the worrying type though. He was always asking me how I was and if I was anxious about anything. I had all but had the Spanish Inquisition thrown at me last night when he started questioning how I was getting to Seattle today.

We had exchanged cell numbers on Thursday, and on Friday I heard him for the very first time. I nearly melted. The man was _killing_ me. And it was all so, so foreign.

Edward had managed to keep my place at Columbia open until the 25th, I had two more days to accept and pay up. Classes began September 6th. To say that I was cutting it fine would have been an understatement. And the worst of it was that Edward and I, we had no time. We had this one shot, and that was it. The next four years of my life would be determined within a matter of hours. Had he not been scheduled to fly to Seattle last night, I'm really not sure what would have happened. I didn't like to dwell on it.

He had an early business lunch pencilled in for half past eleven, and was due to be on site until four. He had asked that I meet him at his hotel at five o'clock for 'drinks'. He had also asked that I bring an overnight bag. It was at this point I began choking on my chicken salad. Not a fantastic start to our conversation, admittedly.

It was only after he had explained his reservations about me making another four hour journey home, this time in the dark, that I understood his suggestion. He assured me I would have my own bedroom – with a lock, or if that still made me uncomfortable, 'then I will quite happily rent you an entire floor all to yourself, Isabella.'

Credit where credit was due; he put forth a good argument. And I was still clinging on tightly to my leap of faith, hoping with everything in me that it took me somewhere… better.

Angela, God bless her, had very kindly leant me her car for the journey. I felt bad for her. Love my beaten up old Chevy as I may, it was a bit of a beast and not everyone thought it radiated 'character' they way that I did. And poor Angela was stuck with it for two days. I would have to buy her some flowers to say thank you.

I glanced at myself in the mirror again, and scowled. The weather had been pleasant the past few days, certainly not summer dress hot, but comfortably warm. Even the sun was daring to make a shy appearance every once in a while. I –Angela– had settled on relatively casual attire for the meeting. Oh who was I kidding? I felt dressed up. Ang had 'helped' pick out some tight skinny jeans, a red sleeveless shirt and a black cardigan for me to wear today. And when I say helped, I mean she threw things at me and then marched me off to the changing rooms during our trip to Port Angeles last Wednesday. The outfit, as my best friend had pointed out, was being 'teamed' with black flats and an oversized black bag.

I felt overdressed. I wanted nothing more than to crumble back into the safe confines of a hooded sweatshirt and a worn pair of sneakers. I felt indecent. I could see the tops of my feet, my arms were bare without the cover of my cardigan and the shirt that Angela had insisted on me wearing, whist being a button up, was what I would have considered to be low cut. Angela had promptly informed me to stop being such a prude.

I couldn't help it though. I felt exposed. I had been covering myself up completely for nearly nineteen years, and now I could see cleavage. I was in hell.

I had grudgingly agreed to the 'ballet flats' because there was no heel, yes, you heard correctly - Angela _threatened_ me with heels. And the bag hadn't taken much convincing, not after she demonstrated how many books I could fit in it. I was sold. I drew the line at jewellery though, knowing full well I would inadvertently find some way of choking myself with it.

The worst part of our trip came when she had dragged me into an underwear store. I had blushed like a sinner in church. It was _awful_. But according to Ang, women actually wore this stuff. I couldn't fathom why. Most of it was see-through and went up your butt. Not exactly airing on the side of comfort, in _my_ opinion. I had come out an hour later, scarred for life, with three new matching bra and panty sets and a new pair of silky pyjamas.

I had on my red set today. It was lacy. I didn't like it. It felt as though somebody had given me a permanent wedgy.

I was feeling incredibly guilty about Angela right now. I had lied to her. She was under the impression that one of my old friends from Phoenix was in Seattle for a few days, and had asked me to meet him for a long overdue catch-up. I wanted to tell her the truth, really I did. But I felt so… ashamed. How do you tell your best friend, who already worries about you plenty enough as it is, that you have decided to whore yourself out to a much older man, to pay for college?

No, I couldn't do it. I had instead fabricated a story about him just being a few years older than me. In said story, said friend was in Seattle for a job interview having just graduated college. And of course, Angela had taken me at my word, never for a second thinking to doubt me. Instead, she had helped me prepare.

I was the worst friend in the world.

One final look in the mirror told me that I was ready. I had left my long brown locks down, kept my face fresh and make-up free, and even I had to admit, the outfit didn't look _bad_. But I still couldn't shake off the general feeling of 'you look _ridiculous_!'

Slinging my black bag over my shoulder, I bent to pick up my overnight bag and spared my bedroom one last glance. The next time I saw it, things would either be exactly the same, or changed completely. The thought made me shudder. Everything was resting on just one decision. _His_ decision.

I made my way downstairs and stopped in at the kitchen quickly to grab a couple bottles of water for the trip. The TV was blaring results from the latest sports match and the six pack in the fridge was down to two already. I sighed, kicking the door shut with my foot.

"Charlie, I'm going to Seattle for the night. I'll be back tomorrow." I called as I made my way to the front door and opened it.

I heard him grunt. "Right. Bye."

I shut the door closed and made for Angela's car, throwing my two bags onto the passenger's seat. I had to admit, I quite liked the car. It was a sporty Mini Cooper, and it was just a dream to drive. There was no arguing with the gearstick, or double pumping of the clutch, no stern talking's to when it decided to break down in the middle of the road. Nothing. For the next twenty-four hours, I had the luxury of driving the little beauty.

_Thank you Angela Webber_!

I had just turned on the ignition when my cell chimed. I reached over and began to rummage for it, panicking when I couldn't find the blasted contraption. _This_ was the problem with silly, oversized bags. Yes, you could cart a library around in them. No, you could not find your phone when it rang.

It eventually sounded off, bleeping a minute later to indicate a missed call.

_Fabulous_.

It started ringing again. It must have been on the last chime before going to voicemail when I finally found it.

"Hello?" I fumbled with the handset, sounding all breathy and out of sorts.

"I was starting to get worried."

Ohhhh…

I blushed, suddenly feeling small, shy and insignificant. "Good afternoon, Edward."

I heard him chuckle. It was a sound that I must admit, I was growing to quite like. "Good afternoon Isabella. How are you?"

_Pooping my pants_!

"I'm fine, you?"

"Also fine, thank you for asking." He sounded amused. I couldn't blame him. If I were him, I'd be amused by silly Bella Swan too. "I take it you haven't left yet?"

"I'm actually sat in the car. I was just about to head off." I looked up towards the clock on the dash, 12:11. He would be at his lunch meeting.

"I've caught you just in time then," he mused. "I can give you the address for the GPS."

"Oh… sure." I tried my best to sound convincing.

He had mentioned this the other night – the 'GPS'. I had no idea what that was. Angela had informed me that it was a little machine that would navigate you whilst on the road. Her car had one. I'd frowned at her, giving her a 'duh, isn't that what maps are for?' look. Apparently, maps weren't the done thing anymore.

"You ready for the zip code?"

My eyes widened. Crap.

"Uh… sure, absolutely."

I didn't even know how to turn the infernal thing on!

Feeling flustered, I started delving through my bag again.

"Okay, it's Washington, 98121. The Edgewater Hotel. Has it come up with your route?"

My route? I didn't have a route! I didn't have a working _brain_ right now.

"Um… just a second," I was holding the phone to my ear using nothing but my shoulder, frantically tearing through items in my bag. I found a pen. Now I just needed…

"Isabella?"

Ah ha!

"Sorry, Edward. I must have… pressed the wrong button. Can you repeat that please?" I lied, pen poised over a scrap piece of paper.

GPS - snort. I couldn't work anything that required wires, a chip or even batteries. I would do this the old fashioned way. My way.

He laughed. It was a charming sound for sure. "That's quite alright; they have a mind of their own sometimes."

I gave him what I hoped to be a believable chuckle in return. "Yeah…"

"Washington, 98121. The Edgewater Hotel."

I silently mouthed the words and numbers as I jotted them down quickly, discarding my bag back onto the passenger seat. I picked my map out and opened it, finding the right page.

"Alright, I should be with you in… three and half hours or so. I'm heading north on the 101." See, I knew what I was doing. No fancy gadgets needed.

"Excellent. I look forward to meeting you, Miss Swan." He said smoothly.

I had no idea how to respond to that. Verbally articulate as ever, I mumbled an, 'uh… okay, bye!' and promptly hung up.

That voice would be any woman's undoing.

(*)

Angela was a fan of country music. Bully for me. From the guy who had sung all about being a 'country boy', to the angry woman who had taken a 'Louisville slugger to both headlights', the span of 'country' had at least, been well varied.

But there was one song that had struck me upon first hearing it, and I had replayed it several times during my journey. The words… haunted me, bothered me.

The guitar strings began to pluck once again, and I found myself taking a deep breath, preparing myself.

_My life is likened to a bargain store_

_And I may have just what you're looking for_

_If you don't mind the fact that all the merchandise is used_

_But with a little mending it could be as good as new_

I almost felt like… sobbing. The song was clearly about finding love again, but that wasn't what affected me so. The love part I wasn't interested in. It was those first eight little words; _my life is likened to a bargain store_.

And I decided that yes, my life felt that way right now - used up, but for sale all the same. And then there was Edward, a potential second time buyer.

How depressing.

_Why you take for instance this old broken heart_

_If you will just replace the missing parts_

_You would be surprised to find how good it really is_

_Take and you never will be sorry that you did_

I wasn't sold on that particular point. I had a feeling that if Edward did go through with this, he would simply end up disappointed. A 'used bargain' I may be, a prize, I was most certainly not. I really didn't have much in the way to offer anybody, much less a man like Edward Cullen. He already 'had it all' in life, what could I ever, realistically, possibly give the man?

_The bargain store is open come inside_

_You can easily afford the price_

_Love is all you need to purchase all the merchandise_

_And I can guarantee you'll be completely satisfied_

Open and desperate and has a price tag of roughly $160,000. Not a cheap steal in my books, but then, I wasn't rich. I suppose a man like Edward may not consider the sum that great an amount.

Oh the feeling of having your entire life hanging in the balance of a strangers palms, awaiting one man's decision that could result in either your making, or your downfall in life. It was all so unsettling. Determined as I was, I couldn't deny how much this was troubling me… terrifying me.

_Was_ I a bad person for doing this? Should I have simply accepted defeat all those months ago… accepted that some people just aren't _meant_ to go off and experience great things? Was I greedy for wanting it so much, for wanting to better myself?

_Take these old used memories from the past_

_And these broken dreams and plans that didn't last_

_I'll trade the for a future, I can't use them anymore_

_I've wasted love but I still have some more_

No. Bettering myself wasn't a bad thing. It was how I was choosing to go about it that reeked of shameful actions. Not that I had really been left with much choice. I could have taken out the loans, yes. But $160,000 worth of debt, at twenty-two? Who would _want_ that? How could a person ever hope to even pay such a sum off?

_The bargain store is open come inside_

_You can easily afford the price_

_Love is all you need to purchase all the merchandise_

_And I can guarantee you'll be completely satisfied_

Yes, this bargain store was most definitely open.

And all I could do was hope and pray that the buyer found _something_ to his liking.

(*)

Tom Hanks once famously quoted that 'life was like a box of chocolates, you never know what you're gonna get'. And well, today I had to agree with Tom. I wasn't entirely sure what that meant for me, or where my box would take me. My chocolate box was still all sealed up, still a mystery. I didn't know what lay hidden in it. But I was going to find out soon.

The Edgewater Hotel was an easy enough find. I had just queried its location whilst waiting on Bainbridge Island for the ferry over to Seattle. GPS – what a load of nonsense.

I was sat in the car park of the hotel, taking in the general splendour. It was lovely. Truly it was. It sat right on the water overlooking Elliott Bay, whilst right at its back, Seattle's skyline was lit up and shimmering in the late afternoon light. The Olympic Mountains were viewable in the distance also, making it quite the ideal retreat. It was, simply put, a breathtaking location.

And I was here; ready to sully it all with my presence.

It was half past four; the drive had taken a little longer than expected what with me being in an alien car. It had taken a while to get completely comfortable, for my confidence behind Angela's wheel to set in and take over. I was now convinced though. I was going to save up and buy one of these cars. I had fallen completely in love with it. Sorry Chevy.

I wasn't entirely sure what I was to do. I was early and Edward had said to meet him at five. I had half an hour to kill. I had almost persuaded myself to go for a drive around, but the rush hour traffic in the city would soon start, and I didn't want to fight my way through it all and run the risk of being late. I thought about getting out and taking a stroll about the place, but I didn't want to draw attention to myself and get arrested for something embarrassing like loitering. That would never do.

I was unsure if Edward was inside or en route from the site, so going in didn't feel like such a good idea. But my legs were cramping, I needed to pee and I wanted to freshen up a little before meeting him. So with all of that in mind, I stepped from the car's confines and eagerly stretched away my tense muscles. It felt good.

Leaning back into the car, I grabbed both of my bags and locked up, making sure to check the handles… just in case. It wouldn't do to go home and have to explain to Angela that whilst her car loan had been generous and thoughtful, I in return, had allowed somebody to steal it.

I walked through the car park and into the hotel's impressive lobby. It was all rustic hunting lodge elegance, with a green and red tartan carpet and chairs made out of dark, wooden logs. The ceiling was high; there were bare stonework walls in places and tall wooden pillars with branches coming out of them, giving off a 'tree' effect. The really striking thing about the area however, was the large window spanning the entire length of one wall, with a breathtaking view of the bay ahead. If I thought the view from outside was good, then I was sorely mistaken. It was… incredible. I'd never seen anything like it before. And it was such a stark contrast to the bustling city directly behind.

I walked up to the check in desk, not entirely sure what I was supposed to do or say, but needing a little direction none the less.

A tall, blonde haired woman with a seemingly permanent smile etched across her lips beamed up at me as I approached.

"Hello. Welcome to the Edgewater Hotel. How can I help?"

I glanced briefly down at the small nametag she was wearing. _Heidi_.

I smiled a little shyly at her. "Um… I'm here to see Edward Cullen, but I'm not supposed to meet him until five o-"

"Miss Swan?" She interrupted my rambling.

I was momentarily thrown off. _She knew my name_?

I nodded, frowning.

Her smile never faltered "Mr Cullen is expecting you. I believe he is still out for the day. If you can show me some ID, then I can give you a key card and you can go on up to the suit."

_Say what now_?

She wanted me to go up to his _room_? Was she insane? You don't let strangers into other people's hotel rooms! What kind of place was this?

"Miss Swan, your ID?" She pressed.

I shook my head. Maybe she was a little… on the simple side. Not quite the full shilling.

"Heidi, I'm not sure Mr Cullen would want m-"

"He's already cleared it with the hotel, Miss Swan. We were told to expect you anytime after four."

Oh.

Well… that changed things.

I set my overnight bag down and began to rifle through my 'handbag' for my wallet. I found it relatively quickly, considering the black hole it had just been sucked out from, and removed my drivers licence for her.

She glanced over if briefly, before making her way over to a hidden photocopier and scanning the image through onto some paper, no doubt for their records.

She handed me the licence back, which I stored quickly and shoved back into my bag, before taking the small card shaped key from her.

"Penthouse suit, top floor, the stairs are just to your right." She smiled again. She reminded me of a Barbie doll.

The penthouse suit? I was going up to the ruddy penthouse suit? Maybe Edward one of their 'special' customers that they 'looked after'. I had to giggle to myself as I climbed the stairs. This whole thing was just ridiculous.

_Ah well, here now_…

The penthouse was stunning. I almost didn't want to go in and risk touching _anything_. It was split onto two levels. The first housed a loft styled sitting room with a gargantuan plasma TV that sat above a fireplace, and comfortable, over-stuffed leather furniture surrounded it from all sides. There was a dining room that seated six and had a wet bar. On the upper level, there was a master bedroom with the largest four poster bed I had ever seen in my life. The attached bathroom was immense, with a large, sunken tub and a double shower. The wall to wall windows left nothing to be desired with the view they presented, and it looked as though there was a large, private decking area just beyond them. It was, simply put – sheer luxury.

And once again, I was left feeling very small and most definitely undeserving.

Sighing, I delicately placed my two bags onto the bed and made my way into the lavish bathroom to take care of some basic needs.

I managed to keep myself busy for a whole five minutes whilst brushing my teeth and then my hair, lightly sprizting some fresh perfume onto my neck like Angela instructed me to do and making sure my clothes were straight.

I was ready.

Well, I _looked_ ready. I was at least presentable. I was an absolute mental mess, but he had to have already put me in the crazy bin anyways.

Walking my fingernails over any surface I could find, I observed the rooms for traces of the man I was about to meet. I didn't want to snoop, and I would never have disrespected a person's privacy that way, so I opened nothing. But there _were_ signs of him.

In the bathroom there was a bottle of shampoo and shower gel. In the bedroom, a suit jacket hung casually over the back of an armchair and a pair of discarded black shoes lay by the window. But the sitting room was the real teller. An architect was most definitely staying in this suit, no doubt about it. I must have counted eight of those long, thin roll tubes people use to store plans in. On the low level coffee table was several sheets of paper, some blank, others with sketches and design ideas drawn on. There were various pencils and pens and other devices I had never seen before in my life thrown spasmodically across the glass top. It was a bit of a mess, but oddly, there seemed to be an order to it.

I did have to wonder why he was using the smaller, much lower coffee table when there was a huge dining table laying there ready.

Shrugging, I made my way over to the balcony door and slid it open. I was instantly assaulted by the smells of the bay. It was refreshingly welcome, and I could feel a light breeze swirling through my thick tresses and cooling my neck. It felt heavenly.

I closed my eyes and allowed myself to simply bask in this… this feeling. The calm before the storm, perhaps?

It was hard to really take it all in. Whilst I was aware of what I had done, what I had sought out, I don't think any of it had really, properly registered. In fact, I found the thought of it all utterly… ludicrous.

I lost track of time completely, too caught up in the beautiful ripples running through the water, the sounds of birds squawking nearby, and watching as the ferry once again left Seattle's waterfront to carry its passengers across the way to Bainbridge Island. When I finally did glance down at my wristwatch, I saw that it was already quarter past five.

Shoot!

I had no idea where I was supposed to meet him. He had mentioned something about 'drinks', so did that mean he wanted me downstairs? Or was I just to stay here? Was he even back yet?

Turning to head back inside, I felt my heart nearly stutter to a complete stop.

For before me was the man from the other end of the emails, and might I just say, the picture did not do him justice. Not at all.

It really _did_ hurt to look at him.

I saw the corners of his mouth twitch, as bright green orbs met dark puddles of mud.

"Good evening, Isabella."

He was stood leaning effortlessly against the open screen door, looking relaxed and confident in a pair of dark grey suit pants and a black shirt that had been opened at the collar, both sleeves rolled up to just below the crease of his elbows. Both of his hands were buried deep within his pockets, and he had one leg crossed in front of the other.

_My God_…

I gulped. "Hello, Edward."

* * *

_**Chapter End Notes:**_

**- Lyrics used in the chapter were from Dolly Parton's **_**Bargain Store**_**. **

**- The Tom Hanks quote was of course, from Forrest Gump.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Stephanie Meyer owns Twilight, no copyright infringement intended. **

**Corrr, demanding wee things aren't ya? By way of thanks for all the lovely words and the, quite frankly, overwhelming interest… here's Edward, I mean chapter 4 – **_**A LOT**_** earlier than originally planned.**

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* * *

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"The biggest adventure you can take is to live the life of your dreams."

~ Oprah Winfrey

_Chapter Four_

He cocked his much-too-beautiful head to the side… appraising me.

I squirmed uncomfortably under his lingering gaze. It felt like fire against my skin… heating me… burning me… warning me.

_Prized cow, remember? Start working on getting that bell!_

I felt as though I should, I don't know… say something? Do something? But what? I was so socially awkward at the best of times and this… this was just _way_ out of my league. An email I could work, but actual interaction… not so much.

I mean, what was the correct etiquette for this sort of situation? Had many people ever _been_ in this situation before?

_What, you think you're the first 'intelligent' whore ever to walk the earth? Give me a break!_

I flushed scarlet at that, no doubt matching the colour of my shirt.

Was that who I was to become, what I was going to make myself? An 'intelligent' whore? Did that make me better than just a regular whore, or worse because on some socially correct level, I knew I _shouldn't _be degrading myself like this in the first place - Ivy League diploma or not?

"That's a beautiful sight," Edward murmured quietly, as if almost to himself. He had not looked away from me and he was still leaning against the screen door.

I frowned, not understanding.

And then I remembered where we were. Elliott bay was directly behind us, and of course, I had to agree with him wholeheartedly - it _was_ a beautiful sight.

Cautiously, I gave a slow nod. "It's a spectacular location."

There. I spoke. I had said something.

Edward's brow furrowed, his head tilting in the opposite direction and catching the subtle last minute rays of the setting evening sun. He looked… confused.

Warily, he took a step towards me… and then another, and another, eyeing my reaction carefully until much too soon, he was stood directly in front of me. I held my breath with baited anticipation, not quite knowing what he was going to do… do with me… do to me.

Very slowly, he removed his right hand from the pocket of his perfectly fitted pants, not that I had really noticed them, you understand, and raised it towards my face.

I forgot how to breathe. I could have turned blue and began shaking, and it wouldn't have registered. The only thing I could focus on was his hand, as it inched closer and closer towards my warming skin.

Jesus, Mary and Joseph… save me.

With a quick flick of his wrist, the backs of his fingers gently graced over my cheek. The delicate touch tickled… tingled, and I felt my face flame once more.

His responding smile was small, but kind - almost caring. And the next thing I knew, his face bent down towards mine, and I was caught, unknowing and anxious.

"I was referring to your blush, Isabella. Not the scenery." He whispered, leaning in further.

_Oh my God_…

_Oh my God_…

_Oh my God_…

"And I must say," his breath fanned across my face. I felt woozy. "I think I'm rather partial to it." His lips made contact with my cheek, kissing my skin lightly, chastely.

I swallowed. Loudly.

I was sorely tempted to leap from the balcony, just to get a little distance. I had never felt so affected in my entire life.

Edward's head moved backwards, but remained ever close. His eyes penetrated mine, almost as if he was seeing right through me. I felt dazzled. Unbelievably and completely dazzled.

His fingers stroked from my cheek to my jaw with a barely there touch, where they then moved to cup my chin softly, delicately holding me as if I might break.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Isabella. You're even lovelier in person." He said sincerely.

I wasn't quite sure why he was making such an effort to compliment me. I was here. There was no need to. The ball was in his court now; he could send me packing straight away if he was so inclined. I couldn't fathom why the praise was coming my way. Surely the 'buttering up' comes before the meet, and afterwards, you go about things in a more normal fashion? Like I said, I was here. He _had _me here. The false compliments were simply… unnecessary. If anything, it was up to me to 'go all out' now, was it not?

"Nice to meet you too, Edward." I replied politely.

He pulled away from then, glancing me up and down. "Hmm. Have you eaten today?"

I felt the blush extend from my face to my neck. "I had a late breakfast."

He smirked. "That, Miss Swan, will never do. You look like you need a little feeding up. Stressful few weeks, I take it?"

I began gnawing on my bottom lip. I had been right. I'd lost more weight. And he seemed to notice that. I hadn't realised it was that obvious. Would it make me even more unappealing?

I looked down at the ground, no longer able to meet his sparkling ever greens. "Something like that."

"Ah, now we'll be having none of that," he hooked a finger under my chin and gently lifted my face upwards. "Those eyes are far too pretty to be paying the decking any mind. How about you just let me take care of you tonight, how does that sound? We can start by getting ten courses into you," he winked.

Pretty eyes? They were the colour of crap, not to be crass or anything. But they were. Boring, dull and brown. There was nothing pretty about my eyes. And why was he so nice?

I gave him a timid smile and nodded. "Alright."

He beamed at me – mega watt style. Was there nothing about this man that wasn't simply… perfect? Even his teeth seemed to love him enough to grow in straight, white and symmetrically identical on each side. My teeth didn't love me. I'd had to wear a night-time retainer for the past _six years_ in an attempt to make mine cooperate. My parents wouldn't pay for all out braces. We took the, ah… 'slower' route to teeth straightening.

"Well then Miss Swan, shall we?" He held an arm out for me, and I obliged by linking my own through it. A gentleman too?

The contact made me shudder, and not in a bad way. If he noticed, he made no show of it.

Edward led us back inside and directed me towards the large sofa, indicating that I should take a seat as he strolled over to a side table and picked up the telephone receiver. I watched him closely as he placed it to his ear, his eyes trained on mine. Oh those eyes…

He was what most would deem a 'fine specimen of a man', I guess. There didn't seem to be anything, and I stress the anything part, about him that was physically off-putting. He was tall, six foot at least. His body, whilst not massively built, was lean and I wouldn't mind betting muscular underneath his clothing. He looked well groomed, but in a non-groomed sort of way. A bit like the photograph I had of him. There was something a little rugged about him, almost as though he simply rolled out of bed in the mornings and looked like an instant God. How unfair.

"Yes Heidi, hello." His smooth voice cut through my –probably very obvious– ogling. "I know it's not standard but is there any chance we could make dinner a little earlier this evening?"

I nearly snorted. I would have put good money on them having a table set up especially for him… permanently… 'just in case'. And yet, he had rung down to ask.

"Well now would be ideal. I think we've both been travelling too much today to really stop and eat."

I hadn't stopped at all. And Charlie was off today. I had managed to sneak downstairs and grab a bowl of cereal whilst he was using the bathroom at some point, but that had been at around ten this morning. If you're living with a man like my father, it's best to take a course in Avoidance 101. I was top of the class and doing very well.

"Wonderful, we'll be down in five." Edward replaced the handset with a skilled flourish before walking back over to me.

My gaze fell with him as he bent down in front of me, taking my hands gently in his. "Now Miss Swan, am I going to have any arguments for pushing _at least_ three courses into you?"

I couldn't help it. I giggled. Was this man always so charmingly playful? So attentive? It was just me. A bowl of soup would suffice for Pete sake.

"No Mr Cullen, no arguments." I smiled shyly.

He grinned, his eyes alight with humour. "I'm very glad to hear it." He stood, offering me his hand. "Let's go eat."

(*)

We were seated by a very graceful French man, whose accent was thick and manners impeccable. I missed his name, though I think it began with an L. It was hard to pick up; Edward and he were speaking in foreign French tongues, neither accent sounding even remotely misplaced.

_Of course he can speak French_, I thought wryly. I had to wonder if there was anything Edward _couldn't_ do. He was accomplished, successful, wealthy, owned his own mega company. And there sat I, Bella 'Can Recite Shakespeare and Cook a Half Decent Lasagne' Swan.

It felt shameful to be sat next to him.

Instead of dining inside of the _Six Seven_ restaurant, we were allocated a table just off of it, outside on the decking and directly over the water. The view had a definite 'wow' factor, and I took as much of it in as I could. I had never had the pleasure of being in such a place as this before, and it took my breath away. Puget Sound was directly before us and the stunning sight that was the Olympic Mountains in the distance loomed tall and unchanging.

We were alone, the only diners down to eat. I tried not to focus on that too much; it reminded me of how much sway Edward Cullen appeared to have.

Everything on the menu looked delicious. My mouth was watering, and I had to keep discreetly checking the area to make sure no drool had escaped. That would just not do. Not at all.

Our French waiter excused himself with a courteous bow of the head –jeez– and it was just us two. I could _feel_ his eyes on me. I kept mine glued to the menu.

All choices sounded beyond tasty – from what I could actually understand. It was _that_ sort of menu. Pompous. The sort of menu that had there been a cheeseburger available, it would have been listed as 'sage infused filleted beef, with a black truffle butter dressing, crisp green garden salad garnish, the finest spicy peppercorn cheddar, all served on a toasted seed bun that we've imported all the way from Holland, just because we can, ah, ha, ha, ha' – or something to that extent.

I mean, call a fish a fish, you know? The verboseness was really quite an unnecessary touch.

Gah!

"Anything tickling you fancy, Isabella?"

I looked up to find his elbow resting on the arm of his chair, the underside of his chin resting on his thumb and his pointer finger gliding over his bottom lip.

My mouth went dry. I may have whimpered.

Illegal. That's what he should be. Downright ruddy illegal.

I cleared my throat. _Get it together Swan!_

"The Gnocchi to start and then the scallops." _Oh that was eloquent!_

Edward nodded, folding his menu shut with a snap and placing it back onto the table. I fumbled with mine, a little less gracefully that I would have liked, before placing it down also.

The waiter was back, carting a bottle of still water and a bottle of white wine, which had been placed in a silver ice bucket and set onto the floor next to our table. He opened the wine expertly, allowing Edward to do that silly 'yes, I approve' tasting thing, before filling both of our glasses half way. I bit my tongue, opting to stay silent instead of saying something ridiculously stupid like, 'dude – I'm _only_ eighteen!'

He began twisting the seal of the water next, filing our secondary glasses as he rhymed off some French to Edward, who in turn, responded easily. I could only guess that he was placing our order.

My head snapped up upon hearing both men laughing, their heads turned directly towards me. The waiter turned and winked at Edward before walking away, leaving me feeling… confused. Were they laughing at me? Did I really stick out _that_ much here?

"It would seem Laurent is quite taken with you, Miss Swan."

Taken with me? What did that… oh... OH!

My eyes widened and I blushed – furiously.

Edward smirked, his pointer finger leaving his lips and turning in the direction of my face. "And who could blame him. That blush is exquisite."

I felt my entire chest heat, and I had to look away.

"Compliments make you uneasy, Isabella." It wasn't a question. "I'd have to question why. You're entirely too lovely to never receive them."

I squirmed. I wished he would stop saying things like that. There was _no need_. Perhaps if I mentioned it, he wouldn't feel so… obligated?

"You really don't need to keep saying nice things to me. I'm here, I agreed to meet you. There's really no need…" I whispered, trailing off.

_Why compliment a whore, you just use it as you see fit, no?_

I clasped my hands tightly together in my lap, nervously wringing my fingers together. I still had no idea what to expect… what _he_ might expect from _me_ in return. I had stated quite clearly in my profile what I wanted out of this deal, but what did he want? Did he want anything?

Things fell silent between us, but I could feel the burn of his gaze on me yet again. Though I held tight and refused to meet it, opting to stare longingly at the bay instead.

Laurent came to set our starters down and promptly left. I looked down at the very fancy dish to discover my appetite had fled. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't stomach the thought of eating it, but hated the idea of wasting it. Food like this cost money, we weren't talking McDonald's 99 cent options here.

Edward didn't seem to be eating either. I could raise my eyes just enough without having to openly look at him, to see that his plate remained untouched.

Crap.

Would he be angry if I left it? He said he wanted me to eat - at least three courses. My stomach churned. I couldn't. I just couldn't do it.

I wasn't really making a very good dinner partner, or first impression, that was for sure.

"Tell me about your family, Isabella." He said calmly, reaching for his wine glass.

I frowned. My family? What did they have to do with anything?

"There's… not much to tell." I answered in a small voice.

Edward sighed. "Somehow I have a hard time believing that."

My eyes snapped to his, and he… didn't look happy.

Oh Lord, I'd done it. I had ruined everything. No Columbia for me. He was going to send me back to Forks, sans tuition money.

"Who do you live with? I take it you're still at home?"

Where was he going with this, and what's more, why did it matter?

"Yes, I live with my father."

"And where is your mother?" He pressed.

I bit my lip. I really didn't want to talk about this. If he was going to send me away, I just wanted him to get on with it… leave out the uncomfortable line of questioning.

"She lives in Phoenix."

Edward cocked his head to the side, his eyebrows rising slightly. "I see. And do they know what you're up to?"

I narrowed my eyes at him, wondering where the heck he was going with this. "Charlie knows that I'm in Seattle for the night."

"And your mother, does she know where you are this evening?"

I snorted - actually _snorted_ in front of Edward Cullen – architect extraordinaire. "I doubt my mother even knows that I'm still living with Charlie, Edward. We haven't spoken in a long time."

His eyes darkened. "And why is that?"

I felt like groaning. This was all awfully intrusive. "Is there a point to all of this?"

"Yes."

"We don't get on. Can we please just leave it at that?" I begged him with my eyes to let it go.

He set his wine glass back down. "Forgive me. I'm simply curious, Isabella." He began running his finger tips around the base of his glass. "You see, I just can't seem to work out why on earth an intelligent, delightful young woman such as yourself felt the need to do what you did." His eyes zipped up to meet mine.

I swallowed. "I want to go to college, Edward. I've already explained my reasons for doing it."

"See, this is the part that confuses me." He looked thoughtful. "Surely your parents are… willing to lend a hand with the financial implications of your studies? I would have thought most parents would've been delighted to boast about their daughter's Ivy League education."

I clenched my jaw, gnashing my teeth together.

"Yes. I suppose _most_ would." I answered tightly.

"But not yours?"

I pushed my full plate away from me suddenly, making my intention not to eat what was on it quite clear, and looked back out at the bay. He could ask questions, but I was under no obligation to answer them if I didn't want to.

"My questions make you uncomfortable?"

_What was his first clue_?

"Yes, they make me uncomfortable." I responded softly, barely able to hear my own voice.

"I apologise. I merely wanted to try and understand your reasoning for doing this a little better, Isabella." He spoke gently. "It's quite a drastic path to take, would you not agree?"

I heaved a sigh. Yes, I suppose some would consider my actions rather drastic, but I wasn't exactly swimming in choices. And now Edward wanted to understand the choice I _had_ made. And that was fair enough, given it had the potential to include him. It was unreasonable _of me_ to expect him to just 'take me on' without even a brief understanding of why I needed help, was it not? Maybe I was obligated to answer after all.

Could I perhaps give Edward just enough to sate him for the time being? We were still strangers, so I didn't much fancy having a heart to heart, but perhaps a little information to help him begin 'painting his canvas'… would do?

It had to be worth a shot.

_Nothing to loose_… The phrase was fast becoming my life motto.

"Look Edward," I rubbed a hand over my eyes roughly. "I didn't have the white picket fence childhood, alright? My parents are… odd people. They're generally very selfish beings and parenthood has just never seemed to agree with either one of them. The idea of starting a college fund for me, was to them, an alien concept. So they never did. They also earn _just _over the threshold income, which meant I was never a strong candidate for financial aid. I hated the idea of being so in debt after I finished my degree, so applying to loan companies never appealed. That's why I sought help elsewhere."

He sat and took my words in for the longest time before he spoke again. "Did you ever consider asking them for help?"

"It was made abundantly clear to me none would be offered when I asked about a college fund." God, that had been a crushing day. One of the worst in my life. Charlie had looked at me like I had horns.

"And I take it they are not the… affectionate sort?"

I rolled my eyes. "On the contrary, Mr Cullen. My father's attachment to the television has increased tenfold over the years, and my mother has quite a close and loving relationship with her anti-wrinkle cream."

"That's not quite what I meant," he smirked.

I ran a hand through my hair. "I know exactly what you meant. I'd have thought the answer an obvious one, Edward."

"Hmm," he mused. "It shows."

I gasped.

_Did he just say that?_

"Are you trying to imply something?" I levelled his gaze, mine hardening all of a sudden. Nerves be damned, him saying that… irked me.

He shrugged. "Compliments make you uneasy; in fact, you look as though you want to run for the hills every time I say something nice to you, indicating you are not usually on the receiving end of hearing praise, or you believe you don't deserve it. You appear confused by kindness or thoughtful gestures. You blush like a bride… frequently. And I wouldn't mind betting that physical contact sets your teeth on edge." He reached for his glass and took a swig of his wine. "We'll need to right all of those things, except for the blush of course. The blush is most welcome to stay."

Laurent appeared then, looking mildly taken aback by our lack of appetites. All I could do was gape at Edward.

'_We'll need to right all of those things'_… Did that mean…?

Oh my… were we to make some sort of arrangement? Could I dare to hope?

Edward said something with a wave of his hand that sounded highly dismissive, and Laurent soon scarpered off with our untouched plates, looking a little chastised.

My eyebrows knotted together, not understanding. They had been getting on well earlier. Laurent's retreating form bombed through the doors to the kitchen, and I couldn't help but enquire.

"Is something the matter?"

Edward took another sip of his wine; I had yet to touch mine. "No. Why do you ask?"

"Well, he… ran away, Edward." I said slowly. "What on earth did you say to him?"

He began to chuckle. "Nothing of any consequence, and certainly nothing for you to worry about, little fish."

Humph.

I held back a snort, it wasn't attractive the first time and I doubted it would be a second.

Edward leant forwards, placing his glass back down again. "Come here, Isabella."

What?

I mean… _what_?

"I'm sorry?" I questioned, nervously adjusting my positioning in the chair.

Edward scraped his own chair back a little. "I said come here."

He was smiling lightly at me… giving off no 'bad' signals. But what did that mean, really? Was he about to throw me into the bay or something?

_Good God, I hope he doesn't want to throw me into the bay! I'm not a confident swimmer!_

With shaky legs –that were prepared to bolt if needs be– I stood, grinding the chair legs noisily against the decking. I made my way towards him, warily, and slowly. He waited patiently, not once looking annoyed by my hesitance.

When I reached him, I gulped, not knowing what to do or what to expect. His hand came towards me very slowly, and lightly gripped onto my right wrist… pulling me closer… closer to him. It felt as though I had live electricity bolting up my arm, coursing through my veins, sizzling in my blood.

_Do not faint… do not faint… do NOT faint…_

His other hand reached out to take my free wrist, and I was pushed gently backwards until my backside came into contact with the table top.

And I think for the second time today, I stopped breathing.

Edward's hands began to lightly trace my arms, moving a little further upwards in tickling strokes. And I had no idea what to make of it. I wasn't sure how I felt about the contact. It made me uneasy, but at the same time it… felt nice… soothing almost.

"I've waited a long time for you," he whispered. "And you, Miss Swan, are simply exquisite."

I bristled. I couldn't stop myself.

Edward smiled sadly. "And I think we have much work to do, to make you see that."

I met his glowing greens guardedly, not fully understanding his words. Why was he still being so completely lovely to me? I had _ruined_ dinner.

He stared back at me with unabashed sincerity and affection in his eyes – I didn't 'get' it.

"I am more than willing to cover your tuition, Isabella." I felt my breath catch. He was going to pay? "A wonderfully, bright, sharp mind such yours should not go to waste. Though, I do have some conditions."

Conditions – this was the nerve-wracking part. He could ask for anything. Heck, if he asked me to act as his human footstool for the next four years, he could. And I would do it, if it meant furthering my education. Pride be damned.

It was just on the tip of my tongue to enquire about said conditions when Laurent reappeared, main courses in hand, and still looking like a puppy that had been beaten with the Sunday Times.

Edward pulled me towards him… but didn't stop. I fell right into his lap.

Jesus.

"I think we should try this my way, as neither one of us touched our food _your _way," he breathed into my ear, making my body ripple from head to foot.

He started rhyming off French again, and Laurent simply severed our meals with a polite nod of the head. Only this time… this time both dishes were set down side by side, directly in front of Edward and I. Laurent then moved my wine glass to join Edward's, before hurrying away again.

_What had Edward said to the poor man?_

I felt his arms encircle me… lift me, and I squealed.

Snorted _and_ squealed – all in the one evening, you understand. I think the 'special' had kicked itself up a notch…

Edward moved his chair closer towards the table, and then proceeded to 'right' me – on his lap.

On. His. Lap.

And he smelt divine. Oh did he ever. I wasn't entirely sure if the scent was natural or manufactured, or maybe even both. But whatever it was – it needed bottled.

He eventually settled me, with my back to the restaurant and my front towards Elliott Bay. My left side was pressed into him; his right arm was wrapped tightly around me. And I could feel a strong, well muscled leg beneath me.

And oh holy crap!

It felt… good. Natural, even. But strange to me. Yes… very strange. I'm not sure I had ever really been held… before.

"Now Miss Swan," Edward began, a conspiring tone to his voice. "I do believe a certain young beauty promised me that she would eat, and not argue."

My lips twitched as I bashfully stared down at my lap. It was all very surreal, being here, with Edward, in his lap.

"Ah, ah, ah. My eyes are up here, Isabella."

I slowly lifted my gaze to meet his, and the look on his face scorched me. I was suddenly feeling entirely too hot.

Edward's left arm began to move, and I heard metal clash against china, but still, I didn't break away from his intense eyes. A fork appeared out of nowhere, gently brushing against my lips.

"Now about that dinner you promised me you would eat…" he trailed off.

I frowned. "Edward, I am quite capable of feeding myself."

His eyes danced with some unspoken emotion, the corners of his mouth pulling up. "I know you are. But you _agreed_ to let me take care of you this evening." He nudged my lips open, and I tentatively took the succulent bite into my mouth. "So get used to it."

* * *

**To answer a few questions…**

**No, Edward is not a Dom. **

**Is there going to be an EPOV? Not any time soon. The story is being told from Bella's perspective; there **_**is**_** a reason for this. I may throw in an Edward chapter if I feel it necessary, but I can't promise one any time soon, if at all. I'll have to see how it pans out. **

**Is Charlie Bella's real father? Yes. He's just not a very good one. **

**How often will you be updating? At least once a week. I'm not sure which day/s yet though.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Stephanie Meyer owns Twilight, no copyright infringement intended. **

**A/N: Bella's school has been changed from Cornell to Columbia. I want **_**no more**_** PM's regarding this please – I'm about to toilet swirly **_**myself**_** out of frustration with it all. The beginning of chapter three regarding Edward's work on the collage has changed slightly if you want to go back and read it. **

**Massive thanks for all of my lovely reviews; I'm sorry I haven't responded to everyone. And of course, to those reading and adding the story to their favs/alerts/c2's. **

**For calla – if I had a real Edward, I would send him to you. **

**

* * *

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'Bargain' - An advantageous purchase, esp. one acquired at less than the usual cost. Or - an agreement between parties settling what each shall give and take or perform and receive in a transaction.

_Chapter 5_

When you wake up in the mornings, what is the first thing you think?

I'm late!

I really should shower, but it's too much effort. I want ten more minutes in bed. I'll risk smelling.

I really should clean out the hamster's cage today…

Did I put the coffeepot timer on last night?

Was bludgeoning my husband to death because of the symphonic range of his snoring… just a dream?

I'm exhausted; I wish the baby would learn to self-settle already!

Will the teacher notice if my homework is late – again?

I feel like it's going to be a fat day, where are my sweat pants?

How much did I have to drink last night and who is this strange man in my bed?

Truly, when you first wake up… what is your first thought?

Mine had been the same for the past year: _what am I going to do?_

And through that one thought, I had scraped to the bottom of the barrel and deeper to try and find a way to answer the one question that had haunted the fogginess of my early morning mind for so many months now.

I had finally found my answer.

Unfortunately, the answer came with a contract and a set of 'rules'.

_Terms and Agreements, Part 4. _

_8.1. Living Arrangements:_

1. Miss - Isabella Swan - is to take up residence in the home of Mr - Edward Cullen - for the duration of the signed contractual agreement.

2. Independent living is, and always will be, unacceptable during the contracted time.

3. All living costs will be financially handled by Mr - Edward Cullen - on behalf of Miss - Isabella Swan - whilst residing on the property.

4. Separate sleeping accommodations can be provided for Miss - Isabella Swan - upon request.

5. Miss - Isabella Swan - is to treat Mr - Edward Cullens - home as if her own, and understand that there are no restrictions being placed upon her within the property.

6. It is the responsibility of Miss - Isabella Swan - to safe house keys to Mr - Edward Cullens - property, and should they somehow disappear, notification of the loss must be made immediately.

7. Miss - Isabella Swan - is to treat Mr - Edward Cullens - property with respect and is being cautioned against inviting unsavoury characters inside.

8. Mr - Edward Cullen - is to be informed of any houseguests coming to stay at the property, and as much prior notice as is possible should be given.

9. Any general house rules are to be agreed upon verbally between both parties, and are amendable through mutual agreement.

And so on…

_8.2. Financial Arrangements_:

1. Mr - Edward Cullen - will financially support Miss - Isabella Swan - for the specified contractual timeframe.

2. Miss - Isabella Swan - is under no circumstances, required to work.

3. Mr - Edward Cullen - will provide Miss - Isabella Swan - with her own bank account and card, which are to be used for all monetary purchases.

4. All recurring direct debits, such as cellular phone contracts, etc, are to be paid for by Mr - Edward Cullen - on behalf on Miss - Isabella Swan - effective upon signing.

5. It is the responsibility of Mr - Edward Cullen - to cover all school costs, including tuition, transport and materials.

6. It is the right of Mr -Edward Cullen - to present Miss - Isabella Swan - with purchases as he sees fit.

7. Miss - Isabella Swan - will be provided with her own car, courtesy of Mr - Edward Cullen - as a means of personal transport. The costs of running the vehicle will fall to Mr - Edward Cullen - and any mechanical problems should be reported straight away.

8. No financial outlay is ever to be repaid on Miss - Isabella Swans - behalf.

And so on…

_8.3. Personal Arrangements_:

1. Miss - Isabella Swan - is under no circumstances to enter into a romantic relationship with any other persons whilst the contract with Mr - Edward Cullen - is in effect.

2. Mr - Edward Cullen - must also agree to abstain from any other romantic entanglements for the proposed timeframe.

3. It is the responsibility of Mr - Edward Cullen - to consider Miss - Isabella Swans - wellbeing at all times.

4. Miss - Isabella Swan - will agree to be in attendance for all required social events that Mr - Edward Cullen - accepts invitation to, whilst contractually bound.

5. Miss - Isabella Swans - time outside of study can and may be decided upon by Mr - Edward Cullen - as he sees fit.

6. It is the responsibility of Miss - Isabella Swan - to verbally communicate her whereabouts to Mr - Edward Cullen - and let him know of any changes to plans made.

7. Miss - Isabella Swan - is to discuss all personal outings/trips/holidays with Mr - Edward Cullen - so that the appropriate arrangements may be implemented.

And so on…

_Holy mother of God…_

I swallowed. My mouth had suddenly become very dry.

It went on… and on… and on. Pages and pages of this… this waffle. And I was rendered speechless. I actually had _no _words. Even my current brain power felt as though it was running on reserves, the generator having backed up and the mechanic unable to reach me until much later on. Something about him being caught up in the spellbound web that was Edward Cullen.

I couldn't get mad at him for that. Edward could certainly cast quite the hypnotic spell, I was fast learning. And if it wasn't for my general awkwardness and despondent unease over his kind, cheerful disposition, I was fairly certain that I too, would have been completely caught up within it. Like a sinking ship that could see the visible outlines of a lighthouse somewhere off in the distance, I was sure that I too would have plummeted beneath the dark, murky waters before reaching it – hook line and sinker… were it not for my 'Bella-ness'.

Dinner had finished roughly an hour ago and we had promptly returned to Edward's suite. I had received some fairly unwelcome stares as we passed through the filling restaurant, all of them hissing and spitting the same meaning at me.

_You don't belong! You don't fit!_

And it wasn't as if I could have stared back, stared them down - because I wholeheartedly agreed with them.

We were sat in the sumptuous living space of the penthouse suit with the fire crackling away in the background, the balcony door was open, allowing a gentle, late August evening breeze to flush its way through the room. Edward was relaxed and had an arm thrown over the back of the sofa, he was taking tentative sips of his wine and watching me closely.

I, however, was not relaxed.

I was going through the 'welcome' package that came with the man seated next to me. My wine had remained untouched since the last refill, though I was now giving some serious thought to just swigging the lot right down.

This was all… too much.

Surely he wasn't actually expecting me to _live_ _off_ _of him_ for the next four years? I had 'only' asked for my tuition to be paid, I did not need to be financially supported in any other way. I would _find_ a way to manage that myself. I didn't need to feel like an all-out whore by completely taking advantage of the man.

This just… had to be wrong. _It felt wrong_, I mused, chewing on my lip.

"What is it, Isabella?" Edward asked gently.

I looked up.

Bad decision. Very, very bad decision Bella!

He had one leg firmly planted on the floor; the other was crossed over it, his ankle sat upon his knee. And I was disgusted with myself for noticing the torturous way his trousers tightened around his upper thighs… strong… well toned… tight… so very tight…

_Stop it!_

And I could see it all quite clearly with the way that he was sat.

_I said stop it!_

_My God…_

I inadvertently licked my lips before I could think to stop myself. I didn't recognise this… feeling. It was strange. I didn't like feeling strange. I felt as though my own body were betraying me, keeping things from me, taunting me.

Swallowing, and failing miserably to snap my eyes from his thighs –good God Swan, pull it together– I tried to think of the best way to broach this.

I came up blank.

"Isabella?"

I shook my head. Honesty. Just be honest. "I can't, Edward. There is no way I could ever accept all of… this." I indicated to the large stack of papers in my hand.

He cocked his head to the side. "Do you not want to go to collage?"

"Yes."

He shrugged casually. "Then we bargain."

Bargain. There was that word again.

"Alright, bargain. I go to collage, and you get… whatever it is you want. The added extras aren't necessary."

He smirked at me. _Smirked_. "That's a matter of opinion."

"Edward," I breathed. "Please. I couldn't, no I _won't_ take advantage that way. The college tuition is already so much."

He gave me a small, sad smile. There was something almost… shy about it. "Isabella, I don't mean this to sound arrogant - in any way, shape or form, but the tuition money, to me, is mere pennies in my back pocket. It really isn't that great a sum."

Oh but it was. It was a great deal of money. What people could do with $160,000…

"The extras are part of the deal, like it or not." He added playfully, a definite twinkle in his eye.

"But I don't want it – any of it." I protested quietly.

And I meant that. I genuinely didn't need or want the extras he was propositioning me with.

Edward began to chuckle. "Which is precisely why I am prepared to give you it Isabella. All of it."

I swiped a hand across my forehead, roughly moulding my skin to the hardness of my skull. "Edward, I don't… I don't…"

Gah!

Why was this so hard?

"What, Isabella? Talk to me," he said softly, compassionately.

Oh him and his ruddy softly spoken words, and his Godly good looks, and his unending patience, and his interminable kindness, and his general flippin' perfection, and his should-be-illegal thighs! Was he really so opposed to just being a git? A git I could handle. This… this… this niceness, this over the top 'generosity', I could not.

I sighed, thoroughly exasperated. "I don't get it!"

"What don't you get?"

"You!" I shot at him accusingly, feeling a sudden burst of braveness as I snapped the _Terms and Agreements_ about in my hand. "I don't get you! What in the name of… What were you doing on a site like that? And stop being so nice to me!" I flushed, looking away from those fine green pools of his.

He took a deep breath, swirling the wine in his glass around with expert finesse. "I would have asked you the same question, if I didn't already have the answer. You are much too lovely to be on such a distasteful website, Isabella. In fact, we really need to take your profile down." He frowned. "And no, I will not stop being nice to you. Heavens knows, you could probably use a little kindness."

I very nearly rolled my eyes. But that would have been rude.

"And as far as my involvement on that hateful site goes," he took a glug of his wine. "I wouldn't be caught dead on there."

Eh?

My brow furrowed. "Edward, you were emailing me. You read my profile."

His tongue darted out, wetting his bottom lip. "Not directly from the site."

Again, eh?

_Adding his lips to the illegal pile…_

_Concentrate!_

But he had sent me emails directly to my profiled account. He had commented _on_ my profile. _Genuine_, I think he had called it. The _first_ genuine profile he had read – indicating he had read more than one. I was not the first girl Edward had 'checked out'.

I closed my eyes. So many questions, too many thoughts, tight thighs – too much! "Edward, I'm not following."

He began to laugh. "No, I don't imagine you are. Contrary to what you may believe Isabella, I do not skulk about on unsavoury websites during my spare time, gawping at young women."

"Well then how did y-"

My words faded as I watched him twist his body around on the sofa. He was now facing me. His trousers were even tighter.

I gulped, not understanding this… reaction I was having to him.

"I suppose an explanation is probably needed?" He raised his eyebrows in question.

I could do nothing but nod. His lip was still glistening from where he had licked it, and the bare skin of his arms where he had rolled up his shirt sleeves had me somewhat distracted.

_Peculiar_.

"It's all very juvenile, and for that all I can do is apologise." He raised his wine glass to his lips and emptied the liquid contents into his mouth, before shifting to place the glass onto the coffee table. "It was actually a very good friend and work colleague of mine who sent me the link to your profile. It had become somewhat of a running, weekly joke for him to send me the most awful links he could possibly find from those sorts of sites."

I felt my face fall.

Did he just say…?

_The most awful?_

He was grouping me together with the barely clad gold-digger's from that site? But I was nothing like them, was I? Was that how Edward saw me? Had I been 'tainted' because of profiling myself on there?

That made me feel… well, pardon my French, but that made me feel quite shit, if I'm being perfectly honest. _The_ most awful, he had said. _THE_ most awful.

Yes, 'shit' would probably surmise my feelings quite accurately.

Edward repositioned himself on the sofa, and I found I could no longer look at him.

I was _mortified_.

I was here because of some long standing joke between two grown men. I was here on behalf of their… their office jollies.

_Goodness Isabella, you are a fool. _

And there was me thinking I may have just convinced lady luck herself to come and play on my side for a little while.

"Isabella?"

I bit my lip painfully.

Why did this feel so bad?

_Because you let yourself hope! Moron!_

Was that it? This sudden, overwhelming disappointment I was feeling was down to… hope? I certainly wasn't accustomed to having it visit often, I nearly never allowed myself to hope. Hope… was a dangerous emotion.

"Isabella?"

Gosh, that was it, wasn't it? I had simply hoped for too much. I had reached too high, only to come crashing right back down. It was… crushing.

"Cullen you're a damn idiot…" Edward muttered to himself, somewhere off to the side.

_A whore and a fool? Turning out to be quite accomplished, are you not?_

Oh shut up!

_The foolish whore… that has a nice ring to it. _

From the corners of my peripheral I could see Edward shift from his spot on the sofa and stand up.

_He has the good sense to walk away from filth when he sees it!_

My bottom lip trembled.

No.

No I would not cry. My mothers words floated to me, _crying is for babies Isabella._ I would not - could not be a baby. No tears. _Act like a grown up. _

Edward crouched down in front of me and reached out to grasp my chin, gently pulling it to face him. I kept my eyes downcast, feeling all sorts of 'wrong'.

"Isabella," he began softly. "I must apologise. I did not mean for that to come out quite as it did. I was not referring to you when I spoke."

I shook my head, swallowing repeatedly. "It's fine Edward." I glanced up to give him a small smile. "Let's call a spade a spade, and a whore a whore. I understand. I do. Those profiles… well, they don't exactly present a very good impression. I get it."

His entire face sobered.

Lord, he looked… angry.

Oh no.

"Isabella," he clenched his jaw. "I don't ever want to hear you refer to yourself using such derogatory language again. Do I make myself clear?"

"But I-"

"No," he cut me off. "Never again. I will not have you thinking that way about yourself. Those profiles I was sent had been part of a running joke for quite some time, _until_ I received yours. Yours was different. Can you not see that?"

No.

_Call a spade a spade…_

"Why did your friend send you the profiles?" I asked timidly, hoping to deflect.

Edward rolled his eyes. "Because he's an interfering nuisance," he chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "I made an offhand comment some months back about only ever attracting gold-diggers and my colleague, well; let's just say he finds himself very amusing. I've had the vilest profiles sent to me every week ever since, from Sugar Daddy websites and sites specifically geared towards 'bagging the rich'. Like I said, _he_ thinks he's funny."

I blanched.

I'd gone from _the most awful_ to _the vilest._

Super. There's progress if ever I saw it…

Edward's grip on my chin tightened fractionally. "No. I said yours was different, Isabella. Please stop thinking so low of yourself. It's very disconcerting."

I began to chew the soft flesh on the inside of my cheek, feeling utterly uncomfortable. It didn't make sense. He was contradicting himself.

I looked directly into his sparkling green eyes. "I still don't understand." I whispered. "If you only received the profiles as a joke, then how am I 'different'?"

Edward removed his hand from my face, but not before giving the underside of my chin a gentle stoke, making me shudder – in that _good_ way. He made rather quick work of standing and then sitting back down, but this time, this time he was right next to me – legs touching legs.

My eyes widened and I tried –really I did– not to look down, knowing full well what I would see.

Edward suddenly took a hold of one of my hands in his and bought it to rest upon his…

Oh my.

_Hand and legs touching his thigh! Hand AND legs touching his thigh! BREATHE!_

What in the name of God was wrong with me?

He turned my hand over and began drawing lazy circles into my palm. The sensation felt like live electricity.

"I'm not one for relationships, Isabella. I never have been. They hold no interest for me. I suppose you could say James saw something in your profile that I would find… acceptable."

I cocked an eyebrow. "James?"

"The nuisance," he grinned. "A nuisance I fear, I'm going to have to send a rather large thank you hamper to."

I felt my fingers twitch and flex in response to his ministrations on my palm. It felt nice. "But what does that mean, the part about you finding it acceptable? I don't mean this to sound offensive, Edward, truly I don't, but don't most men your age want to settle down and get married? Have the white picket fence and the two point four children, instead of a four year contract to financially support a student through collage?"

Some emotion I couldn't place flashed through his eyes. "No. None of that has ever appealed to me. I'm not interested in marriage or babies. I don't want them. I would however, be most interested in helping out a young woman who is just starting out in the world, and has the potential to do wonderful things."

I flushed crimson.

This man would surely be the death of me if he didn't ease up on the uncomfortable, head spinning compliments.

Edward's fingers left my palm and came up to delicately trace my cheek. The touch tingled, causing my already burning flesh to flame even further.

"That's a beautiful sight," he whispered, his eyes intense and deep and… longing.

_Longing for what?_ I wondered.

I closed my eyes and sighed heavily.

_Oh Mr Cullen, you weave quite the disarming spell. _

"What are you saying, Edward?" I asked quietly. "What is it you want?"

The brush of his knuckles against my heated skin was maddening. I didn't know how, or why, but Edward Cullen was evoking some deep-seated feeling within me – and I didn't know what it was.

It scared me.

It distracted me.

It confused me.

I didn't understand it.

"I want you to sign, Isabella. I want you to say yes."

And naturally, he made it sound oh so simple.

I opened my eyes. "But what am I signing up for Edward? What is it you want? What do you want from me?"

"I just want you. Simple. I would like a little companionship. New York can be a very lonely place for a single man in his late thirties, especially one who avoids dating."

I shook my head. "But why me, Edward? I mean, look at you. You could have anyone."

His reaction was not the one that I was expecting.

Instead of giving me a my-ego-just-soared-ten-points grin, he looked… well, I wouldn't even know how to classify the emotion. It was strange.

Heavyhearted. Yes. Edward Cullen – accomplished, world renowned, Mr Moneybags Architect Extraordinaire… looked heavyhearted.

Edward's hand left my face and took a hold of my own hand again, but this time, he brought it up towards his lips, and brushed them against my knuckles.

Melting. I felt as though I was melting. Positively goo-like, in fact.

I was determined to have a rather stern, lengthy 'chit chat' with my body before bedtime this evening. This simply had to stop. This could not be healthy.

Goo indeed…

"I suppose I'm really a rather selfish being when it comes down to it, Isabella." His warm, sticky breath fanned across my skin, and I suddenly had an inclination into how one might feel were they nothing more than a patch of condensation – warm, moist, foggy, slowly evaporating into nothing. "I want the relationship, but minus all of the relationship politics. I'm not one for clinging vines - I work long hours and often have to leave the country, for weeks at a time in some instances. My work is… well, it's a stressful job. I would much rather come home to an understanding smile, than an argument about my lack of personal time. Put very bluntly, Isabella…" His lips moved from my knuckles to the inside of my wrist. "I want everything my own way, and on my own terms. I want hassle free. And unfortunately, that's just not realistic. Not generally speaking."

"A contract with outlined expectations would make for very few worries," I murmured, my eyes transfixed on his lips as they assaulted my tender flesh.

"Exactly," he breathed. "We both get what we want… what we need. And we both know the… relationship rules, the boundaries."

I swallowed, my throat tickling as it objected to the lack of moisture. "And what is it you want from me Edward? What do you expect _from_ me?"

His fingers began to glide against the inside of my arm. "No more than you are willing to offer. I am not a scoundrel, Isabella. I would never, ever force you to do something that you do not wish to do. Though, I would hope for a certain level of natural progression. Truthfully, right now, I cannot think of anything that would make me happier, than to simply come home and find you fast asleep on my sofa. To come home knowing that there is somebody there for me to take care of, to lavish with attention, and spoil rotten. And I will, to all of the above."

I groaned. "Edward, I do not need spoiled. I am not a poodle!"

I could _feel_ his grin against my skin without having to look to know it was there.

"And that's the best part of it. When I buy you a car, you'll complain at the expense, not because you wanted a convertible. When I buy you pearls, you'll refuse to accept them, instead of asking me to return them for diamonds. You don't want any of it, which makes you all the more deserving, Isabella."

I narrowed my eyes. "No pearls, Edward."

He beamed back at me, almost as though I had just confirmed some huge theory of his and the findings were exactly as he suspected.

"Just diamonds then," he gave me a cheeky wink.

I couldn't help but scowl.

Was this what I was to become? Was I to become likened to some Mafiosi's goomah? Lord whatever next, a full pelt fur coat?

"I don't want diamonds!"

And did he have to look _so_ smug? Could he not reel that in, just a little? _Edward Smugullen…_

"I know you don't," he cocked his head to the side, his eyes alight with humour. "It's going to be mighty fun spoiling you, Miss Swan."

"Oh," I pushed his hands away, glowering at the mere thought of it. "You, Mr Cullen, are incorrigible."

Before he could respond, there was a light tapping against the suites entrance door.

Edward stood up quickly, reaching into his back pocket and retrieving his wallet. "That'll be desert."

I would just like to take this opportunity to state that I did not notice the way his suit trousers sat perfectly upon his hips… how they fit him like a teasing glove… how his backside was shaped, round… and firm looking. Very firm.

_This man wants to buy you! For the love of Pete, grab onto your sanity and stop staring!_

I snapped my eyes tight shut and took a deep, cleansing breath.

_Remember why you are here, Isabella. Remember! This is a… business arrangement. _

And it was.

This was just business.

I wanted my education and Edward… Edward seemingly wanted some female company - minus the nagging. Company I could do. And it was 'just' for four years.

Lord. Why did that sound like a millennia? _Four years_. It felt like a lifetime away.

"I believe somebody ordered cherry cobbler," Edward smirked, holding the plate out in front of me… presenting it to me.

I took the plate from him with a small smile of gratitude. "I still can not believe you made them make this."

It looked mouth wateringly delicious. It was hot and steaming, and the vanilla bean ice-cream was melting over the top of it in that 'my mouth has just filled with saliva and is stinging in anticipation' kind of way.

"Your favourite is cherry cobbler, is it not?"

"Yes, but it wasn't on the menu Edward. The poor chef…"

"Will be thanked accordingly. I'm a very good customer," he winked at me again.

And I would never get used to it.

"Now Miss Swan, we were bargaining?" Edward lifted his spoon to his mouth, and ever so slowly, pulled the bite of his desert through his lips.

Oh flippin' my…

I think I needed to see a doctor. I was in an absolute flummox - something had to be wrong.

Blushing ruddy _scarlet_, I looked towards my plate. "Yes, about the living arrangements…"

* * *

**Thank you for reading. I would love to hear your thoughts :)**

**Oh, and if anybody is interested in reading more on Sugar Daddy Edward, I promised jess2002 I would send any of you who aren't already aware of her fic - over her way. The story's called 'Sugar Daddy Needed' and judging by the review count, has been recieved very well so far. I think people might like a little Olderward... Can't imagine why. *fans self***

**For anyone reading **_**Three Made Men and a Bella**_**, please bear with me. The story's a lot more complex, as is the relationship and it takes much longer to get the chapters written. My little girl's been ill, so that's set me back a fair bit, but I'm hoping to get the update posted this week - I'm roughly half way through. **

**Zzzzzzzz!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Stephanie Meyer owns Twilight, no copyright infringement intended. **

**Hello all. **

**Thank you for your kind words, and to everybody reading and adding the story to their favs/alerts/C2s. I have been trying to make a real effort to reply to people, I think I made it about half way through the list with the last chapter before my fingers refused to type anymore. So apologies if I missed you.**

**I've not been keeping too well, so excuse the wait. **

**

* * *

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"One single vision fills all minds: that of our independence endangered. One single duty imposes itself upon ours wills: the duty of stubborn resistance."

~ King Albert II

_Chapter Six_

When I was six years old, I broke my left arm. And I remember it all so very clearly. It had been my father's year to have me. Him and Renee didn't ever operate on a 'switch for the holidays' rotation, they had a yearly 'pass the Bella' agreement.

Just before I turned six, Renee had made the long journey to Charlie's house in Forks for his twelve month stint, a few weeks before school started. And looking back, I remember thinking that it had been the best year of my entire life. For that was the year that I met Mrs Miller, Forks' head librarian.

Within weeks, Mrs Miller had likened me to Matilda, the Roald Dahl character. And oh how I had loved that comparison. It had truly been the greatest compliment I had ever received - Matilda had been one of my favourite books since the age of four. Of course, it wasn't until I got a little older that I realised, her likening me to Matilda… was not really a compliment. You will probably understand this if you are familiar with the storyline.

The library was my fairground. And like Matilda, I spent every waking moment I could there absorbing pages upon pages of written text. Every time I ran off, my father would know exactly where to look for me. Every Saturday and Sunday morning, he would drop me off at the doors with a packed lunch and a gruff 'bye', before heading out on another one of his great fishing escapades.

It had been a magical time. I used to curl up on an old wing backed chair and read for hours. It had been heaven. And Mrs Miller was always there, keeping an eye out and helping me when I got stuck reading big words that I didn't understand.

But the best thing about that year had been when Mrs Miller introduced me to _Peter Pan_. My God, I fell head over heels in love with that story.

Of course, I soon learned that love was a very dangerous emotion and often makes you do entirely stupid things, and have since kept a safe distance from it.

You see, that summer, exactly one month before my seventh Birthday and two weeks before Renee was to collect me for the Bella switch over, I had decided that Neverland was most definitely the place for me. I was leaving. I wanted to live with the lost boys, because that had been how I felt – lost, and most definitely unclaimed. I just knew that I would fit in better with them… the kids at school always made fun of me. Naturally I knew - I just _knew_ that the lost boys would accept me wholeheartedly into their misfit gang.

So on August 13th, I had packed a small bag with the basic necessities – four books, my teddy bear, a change of underwear and my toothbrush – and got to work planning, for I had no fairy dust to carry me 'second to the right, and straight on till morning'.

A minor glitch and easily remedied, I had thought.

I eventually devised a plan. I would make myself some wings.

Only, I wasn't really supposed to play with the scissors, and I needed help cutting out the shapes in the cardboard boxes I had found in the garage.

I told Charlie of my plans and asked for help, but was promptly dismissed. His words at the time had angered me. 'Stop bothering me with your nonsense, Bella. Go play outside.'

Oh I was mad, so mad I wanted to spit. Neverland was not nonsense. It was perfect. And I was going.

With a new found determination, I cut those damn wings out myself, only managing to sustain mild injuries to my hands – no fingers were lost. I was a little sneaky and stole the shoelaces from all of Charlie's boots, knotting them together and tying them around my fabulous wings, so that I could slip my arms into them securely.

And suddenly I was ready.

With my backpack firmly attached to my shoulders, and my wings ready to take flight, I leapt from my bedroom window and soared… straight to the ground.

I had woken up in hospital with a heavy cast on and two relatively angry parents. Not _quite_ the Neverland happily ever after I had initially anticipated.

But the one thing that I had really taken from the experience was my mother's words to me upon waking up. I was not offered comfort, or declarations of love or worry, no. She had called me stubborn and given me a thorough telling off, for I had disrupted her final two weeks of 'peace'.

Stubborn.

I certainly knew a thing or two about stubborn.

I knew enough to recognise that Edward Cullen - was as stubborn as a mule. This agreement was not always going to go smoothly, that much I had already deduced.

It would seem that when Edward had made a decision, he did not like to budge. And the highly irritating thing abut that, was how I was in no real position to argue – because I wanted to go to college, I had to go. He was my meal ticket. He was my straw.

I was not happy about his stipulations within the _Terms and Agreements_. And I had voiced this as diplomatically as possible, explaining that I could support myself, get a job and an apartment, save up for my own car, and one day pay him back.

All of this… had been met with a resounding 'no'. And we are not talking the kind of 'no' where you sense room for manoeuvring. Oh no, no, no. Edward's 'no' was firm, final and absolute.

This was going to be a problem.

However, Edward was not the only stubborn person in the room. If my subtle nudges for independent living were going to be thrashed aside, then I would just have to try compromising. I mean, everyone entering into any kind of agreement must have to be prepared to do a little back and forth before reaching a final point, right?

We had been going at this for forty-five minutes. It was quite safe to say that we – I – had made zero progress. Not even cherry cobbler had managed to distract Edward into a 'yes'. In fact, all that that blasted pudding had done - was distract me from rational thought. Because hot damn, Edward Cullen had nice lips…

_Again with the focus, Swan!_

"Alright," I breathed, welcoming – dragging – my 'calm' to come and work her wonderful, soothing magic. "How about this… I agree to your conditions, but only if you agree that I can work whilst I'm at college, and contribute to paying rent and some bills?"

Fan-flippin'-tastic! Surely he could not refuse this? This was fair. This was meeting in the middle. This - was a compromise.

Giving me a face that suggested he had just sniffed something rather foul, he responded, "absolutely not."

Gah!

Insufferable man.

"Edward," I groaned. "Why on earth not? Please be reasonable! You surely cannot expect me to leech off of you for _four years_?"

He raised his eyebrows. "I most certainly do. I will not have you jeopardising your studies because you are out working some mundane, low paying job when it is not _necessary_, Isabella. In fact, no working at all. Focus on your schooling – that is what is important. You are going through all of this to ensure you further your education, why would you want to run yourself ragged and risk your grades slipping when there is no need to do so?"

"Edward, plenty of students-"

"I neither care nor am interested in any other student Isabella," he cut in. "My only concern is you. The last thing I want is to come across as some manipulative control freak - I think you're a wonderful young woman with the world at her feet, and I don't ever want to stampede your independence, but the answer is still no. Tell me, say your parents had money and could afford to send you to college and support you, would you work, or would you bypass it to concentrate on your studies?"

I honestly felt like growling.

Trust Mr Architect Extraordinaire to find the cracks that could pose a potential threat to _any_ foundation.

"You can't argue that, Edward. It's different."

He cocked his head. "How so?"

_Because I'm whoring myself out to you!_

I shrugged, trying for nonchalance. I didn't want to actually say what I was thinking and risk making him mad. He didn't seem to like the 'whore' comment I had made earlier this evening.

"It just is."

He pursed his lips, bringing his fingers upwards to twine in my hair. "I don't see it. But regardless, it's moot anyways. The answer is still no. I want to take care of you, Isabella. Please don't fight me on this."

I sighed, enjoying the feel of his fingers and the wonderful things they were doing. It just felt so… nice being near him. I could not think of any other way to describe it. It was, simply put – just nice. There was something very comforting about Edward, and I couldn't quite put my finger on it. I didn't really understand my reactions to him, but I felt… safe, and almost… treasured. Two things I had never really experienced before. Yet he was still a stranger to me. It was all very disconcerting.

"It just feels wrong. I would feel as though I were taking advantage."

He smirked down at me. "How could you ever possibly feel that way, Isabella? You can't take advantage when everything is being offered to you. I have no doubt that you will want to stamp your foot at most turns, so I am certainly not worried. It's not taking advantage when there is an agreement in place that benefits both."

"I fail to see how you throwing money my way when I could quite easily work benefits you or your bank balance," I grumbled.

I was not accustomed to… this. When I stated I was independent, I had meant that. I came from a background where I had pretty much fended for myself for over eighteen years. I had been working since I was _fourteen_. I was not used to being told no. I was not used to being told much of anything. I was not used to having people around me who were interested in actually having to articulate an answer to my actions.

What I was used to was figuring things out myself, finding a way when all other roads were blocked. I was used to going things alone. I had never had everything simply handed to me on a silver platter, and Edward just wanted me to what, accept it all of a sudden?

I wasn't sure if I could.

Edward closed his eyes and leaned in towards me, pressing his forehead to mine.

"Isabella, please – just let me have this, alright? I want to do this. It would make me feel awful to solve one of your problems, only to then create another by not fully supporting you and having you wear yourself too thin. Please?"

I found my own eyes beginning to flutter closed as Edward's scent engulfed me. It was heavenly, sickly sweet like butter mints with a hint of his cologne lingering behind from this morning.

"You really won't budge?"

_Please budge! For the love of God budge!_

He began to chuckle lowly. "No, I will not. It's all part of the deal. No budging."

"You're stubborn," I muttered.

I could _feel_ his smile permeating the air space around us, lighting it up and making it glow.

"As are you, Miss Swan." He brushed his lips against my cheek, causing my skin to warm. "It's going to be a fun four years."

I gave him a sarcastically dry 'hmmm' in response to that.

I was already waging an internal war, one side telling me that what I was doing was wrong and to turn away now, the other, telling me that I needed to do this in order to continue on with my studies. Both sides had relatively equal standing, though one certainly had the moral high ground.

'Fun' four years… the very idea of being fully financially supported by Edward made me cringe, how was I to actually deal with it when it all started?

I pulled back and glanced down towards the _Terms and Agreements_ in my hand. It didn't look as though I was going to 'get my own way' with regards to the living arrangements. But we had four years; perhaps I could change his mind in time. And whilst I would be signing to the stipulations that were written before me, I certainly did not have to verbally agree to anything Edward had 'added' tonight.

Taking a deep breath, I decided to clarify a few of the other points.

"Number four… I can have my own room?"

This _did_ make me happy.

Edward had been nothing short of a gentleman - he appeared genuine, and caring, and really very kind. I had been extremely fortunate, given my circumstances. Things could have gone very… differently, with any other man. And he had yet to give me cause not to trust him. So far, it all seemed a little Cinderella-esque and I was waiting for an ugly stepsister to stalk out from the gloomy darkness and snatch it all away.

Again, he was still a stranger. A _Wiki_ page can give you the facts, the general run down on a person's life, but it was all highly impersonal. I didn't know Edward. And apparently, I was to live with the man – soon. And yes, that made me uncomfortable. I would really need my own space.

Edward swallowed, avoiding my eyes. "If that is what you want, Isabella, then of course you can."

Oh.

He looked… sad… disappointed even.

If that is what _I_ want…

Did that mean Edward _didn't_ want that?

"You would rather I didn't have my own room?"

He looked up at me and smiled, though it did not touch his eyes. "I want you to feel comfortable. If having your own room makes you so, then you shall have it."

I breathed a sigh of relief. "Yes, it would make me more comfortable."

He nodded. "Then I will get a room ready for you."

Well, that was easy.

"Alright then," I said, slightly more chipper now. "How about… number five, in the _Personal Arrangements_ section. My time outside of study can be decided by you, what does that mean?"

Edward grinned. "That means if you decide to enrol on a bungee jumping course or something equally as deadly, I have the power to veto your decision and suggest something less fatal… like cross stitching."

I giggled. "Mr Cullen I can assure you, extreme sports are really not my thing."

"I am mighty glad to hear it, Miss Swan." He beamed back at me. "I will not interfere in your activities, Isabella. Not unless I feel they pose a great risk to your safety. Whilst we are on the subject – no swimming with sharks, no signing up for initial trial drugs testing's and no free running off of tall buildings. In fact, veto to the free running period."

I rolled my eyes. "Bummer. I was so looking forward to all of the A&E visits after the free running attempts failed on a cataclysmic level."

Edward's eyes were dancing with humour. He looked so very young when he was like this. "Well in that case, I am sorry to disappoint you, Miss Swan." He raised his pointer finger and jabbed it in my direction, mock glaring at me. "The answer is still _no_."

I held my hands up in a playful 'I surrender' gesture. "Okay, okay, I concede. Sheesh, less of the intimidating finger pointing, if you please."

I glanced back down at my lap, biting my lip as I concentrated on reading the next point. "Number six? Communicate my whereabouts…"

"Ah." His lips thinned. "I don't mean this to sound… parental, Isabella. But I can be a worrier, and New York is a large city. I just want to know that you are alright at all times, so if you make sudden plans to go out after college, then a phone call would be most appreciated. I don't much like the notion of coming home to find you not there, having no idea of your whereabouts. It's more a… peace of mind clause."

Well that was understandable and certainly sounded reasonable enough. It was courteous, if anything.

"And number seven is much the same," Edward added. "If you take any independent holidays or outings, just let me know in advance and we can get everything arranged for you."

Hmm. That all sounded… acceptable. The _Terms and Agreements_ didn't seem so scary anymore, if anything, they were… practical. Though I was struggling with the whole 'not working' part. I was certainly going to try my best to change his mind. I would also need to start thinking of ways to avoid any unnecessary… generosity, on his part. Perhaps I could have a door plaque made for my room – NO DIAMONDS NEEDED, CHERRY COBLER MOST WELCOME!

We spent another hour going through the finer points of Edward's conditions, and he was very forthright about it all. Not once did I feel as though he was leaving any detail out, and never did I get the impression that he was trying to control my life… dominate my actions by stifling my movements. It seemed as though Edward just wanted things to be, well, normal between us. I appreciated that.

Before either of us seemed to realise, it was gone 10pm and I could no longer stifle my yawn. The days… festivities and those leading up to it had washed me out completely, and all that I could think was, 'bed now!'

I felt Edward's hand massaging the back of my head gently, lulling me further into my desired slumber.

"Tired, little fish?"

My eyes drifted closed and I felt my head leaning back into his magical hand. Lord, it felt good. I didn't want him to stop.

His fingers slowed and began increasing the pressure on certain points of my scalp, and I think I may well have moaned out loud – much to my embarrassment and Edwards's apparent amusement.

"Bedtime for Isabella, I think," Edward chuckled quietly.

I nodded. "Need to sign…" I slurred, rather attractively, I might add.

I felt my body shift as an arm hooked underneath my legs and around my back, pulling me… adjusting me… settling me.

Oh.

Edward's lap – again.

I stiffened automatically, not quite sure what I was to do. But his arms held me tight and his head came to rest on top of mine, and I decided that it felt… okay. Yes, this was alright. Strange and unknown, but alright. His chest felt warm and inviting, and I found my body folding into his. It was oddly comforting.

I tried not to think of his thighs… beneath me… firm… manly… tight…

_Bad Bella!_

"How about you sleep on it, and sign in the morning if you still want to, Isabella?" He murmured. I think he sniffed my hair.

Strange man.

"Are you sure? I can sign now," I breathed sleepily.

Edward's knuckles began to brush over my cheek, his lips planting small, chaste kisses against my forehead. "Quite sure. I would rather have you fully alert for the signing."

I smiled against his chest. I would be signing either way, but it was thoughtful of him to consider. I was sleepy, and it had been a long day - I had also consumed a couple glasses of wine.

Was there nothing toad-like about the prince?

"M'kay… where am I sleeping?"

With a final kiss to my head, Edward began sliding our bodies towards the edge of the sofa. "You, my beautiful Miss Swan, are in the bedroom."

I ignored the compliment and tried my best to squash down a snort.

"Where are you sleeping?" I could not help the anxiety that crept its way forwards and shot straight into my voice. He had said I would have my own room, but there was only one. Did that mean…?

"Relax," he hushed, giving me a reassuring squeeze. "I won't be sleeping. I have a lot of work to catch up on for tomorrow, so I'll be in here. Just shout if you need anything though, alright?"

"Alright," I agreed, my nerves somewhat pacified.

I started to move from Edwards lap, but he clung on to me. Confused, I looked up into his sparkling emeralds and saw… unease.

"Edward?"

He looked… nervous. Nervous, but… wanting.

Licking his lips – lovely, full lips – _stop it Bella!_ – he took a deep breath.

"Can I kiss you, Isabella?"

_Can he_ _what_?

I felt my breath catch.

Oh my.

Kiss Edward? Edward, the beautiful, older man before me? Kiss him… properly?

Did I want to?

Was it a test of some sort? If I failed, would that mean he didn't want to proceed with any kind of arrangement?

Oh Lord, I didn't know what to do!

I felt those should-be-illegal thighs of his shift beneath me; his fingers danced their way up my side repeatedly before settling on my hips, gripping me lightly.

"Trust me?" He murmured, inching closer towards my face, his eyes trained hungrily on my mouth.

Man alive. What was this feeling? My entire body felt as though it was pulsing… beating… thrumming. I could feel the heat from his body radiating in waves, gravitating towards my own and mixing into one whirling, fiery inferno.

My traitorous body began leaning towards him, being pulled in – by him, by his spell. An orchestra suddenly began belting out the chords to 'I Put a Spell on You' by Nina Simone in my head. My anxiety was crippling, screaming at me not to mess this up - not helped in the least by the powerful notes free-flowing through my inner mind. Thank you Nina – way to have a girl's back.

I felt my breathing spike, my shoulders lifted in rapid succession as the anticipation of watching Edward's lips closing in on my own became maddeningly intense.

My brain fled. My subconscious was left shell shocked, staring wide eyed and not blinking at the scene about to take place. One half of my body was re-enacting the part of the poor girl who always gets killed off at the beginning of most horror films, screaming uselessly and running away, whilst waving her hands about in the air. The other half seemed to have taken up the part of _Hussy the cheerleader_, rustling her pompoms about eagerly whilst doing somersaults and shouting out the letters, 'K I S S H I M!'

I was a mess.

Pucker up Cullen; you are in for a _real_ treat…

My claim to fame – hyperventilating with wild, uncensored bloody _panic_ as I kissed Edward Cullen. Would I ever live that down?

Not chuffing likely.

His fingers clutched my sides tightly, just as his lips closed over my own.

And it was a Godsend that he was gripping onto me, for I fear I may have just had another 'I fell off my chair' moment.

I felt drunk. My head was swimming, awash with fog and jumbled… nothingness. The only thing that was clear was Nina's powerful, booming voice repeating, 'because you're mine' over and over and over again.

It felt… _good_.

The air around us seemed to sizzle and crack and pop, raining spark after spark down upon us. My body felt light, and tingly, and immensely sensitive to everything.

It felt _so good_.

His lips were warm and wet, soft and gentle, and I had been right to throw them straight onto the illegal pile earlier on. Because I already knew that I would want to do this again. Strange – but true.

And then the pièce de résistance… he moaned. _Moaned_.

For crying out loud, he was kissing _me_, and he _moaned_.

I think _Hussy_ all but pummelled the screaming would-be murder victim to death with her red and white pompoms in a desperate attempt to 'have at it'.

And the most shocking part? I was responding, as if on auto-pilot. If I was to really stop and think about it, I had no clue what to do. Yet my body, treacherous Ho-Bag that it was, seemed to just… know.

I found my hand twisting upwards and winding into Edward's bronzed locks, clinging and pulling lightly, causing further sounds that made me squirm in bizarre delight to break forth from his lips. I moved my mouth against his, about ready to combust when I felt his smooth, obviously skilled tongue slowly sweep its way across my bottom lip, leaving a deliciously wet, tingling trail. The action was teasing, and sensual, and just down right you're-making-me-melt-whilst-simultaneously-making-me-do-a-mental-happy-clappy-dance-that-I-really-don't-understand worthy.

It all felt so… wonderful. Electric. Yes – it felt electric.

And all too soon, it was over. And I realised we were both panting and near gasping for air.

Edward was shaking his head lightly, blinking down at me in… awe? And I could only imagine what my face must have looked like. Probably highly comical and definitely not a Kodak moment I would ever wish publicised.

"Oh Miss Swan, you are a dangerous creature." He whispered, licking his lips. Those lips tasted like cherry cobbler – I would know, _I_ had just tasted them. Delicious.

I wasn't quite sure what he meant by 'dangerous creature', so I offered no response. Was it a bad thing… an insult? Should I be offended?

Edward closed the infinitesimal gap between us once again and placed a sweet, delicate kiss to my lips before drawing back.

I was speechless. My mind was racing a mile a minute. I had no idea I could feel this much. It was so… intense, so sobering. And I could not believe I had just done that!

_Bella is a big fat whore, a big fat whore, a big fat whore. Bella is a big fat whore, she must be she's wanting more!_

Oh very clever…

But there was that word again – whore.

Sobering indeed.

It may not have been past midnight for this Cinderella, but the spell was certainly, very suddenly - broken.

I was forgetting myself.

Curse his hypnotic spell!

_You enjoyed it!_

Well… yes… _that_ had been incredible. No, I would not object to doing it again. _But_ I was effectively being paid to do it... do this. And I had to remember that.

Edward's fingers were running through my hair, over my face… down my throat. And I was thrust back into uncomfortable territory. It was too much. Much too much.

Without meeting his eyes, I said, "I think I need to go to bed now, Edward."

"I think you do too," he kissed my head again. "You must be exhausted."

Yes. Exhausted and awash with many, many conflicted emotions.

Edward's hold on me loosened, and I stood up on shaky legs. Definitely too much.

As I turned to walk towards the bedroom, my eyes settled upon the contract lying haphazardly on the low lying coffee table. It seemed to be humming with life… determined not to go unnoticed. It was calling to me.

And I knew what I had to do. There was no point in putting it off. A matter of hours sleep would do nothing to change events. This was happening – had to happen.

Biting my lip painfully hard, I reached for one of the many pens scattered across the glass and flipped to the final page of the written contract. The dreaded dotted line was both my salvation, and my biggest personal failure.

"Isabella, no," Edward reached out and took a hold of my arm. "I told you, you don't need to sign that tonight."

I shook out of Edward's grip, and with stubborn determination, watched as the black pen began to seep and soak its way onto the paper.

"Yes I do," I whispered, barely audible to even my own ears.

_Isabella Marie Swan_

And it was done.

I set the pen back down gently and turned to give Edward a small smile.

"I prefer Bella." I leaned down towards him and planted a soft, innocent kiss to his cheek. That much… I could do. "Goodnight Edward."

(*)

When I woke up, I was surprised to find that my first thought was not the one that had haunted me for many long months past. There was not a '_what am I going to do?_' within reach. Not even an echo of said thought. It had vanished - receded into the deepest nook of my inner mind that it could possibly find, and buried itself in deep for a long, well overdue rest.

But in it's place… I was left… crushed, with a feeling so overwhelming, so powerful, that my heart constricted painfully, and my eyes began to sting with tears that did not wish to be held back.

For my first thought this morning… was an unwelcomed revelation, and it had hit at the worst possible time. Reality, it seemed, had finally caught up to me, and suddenly, '_what am I going to do?_' did not seem as bad as it once had.

The new thought, I hear you ask?

_I have sold myself._

And what a despairing thought it was.

* * *

**That's all for now folks. Update – soon-ish. **

**Song: Nina Simone – I put a spell on you. It's awesome; go check it out if you haven't heard it before. She's one of my all time favourites. **

**4****th**** Street :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Stephanie Meyer owns Twilight, no copyright infringement intended. **

**Alright, apologies for the wait – hellish couple of weeks and I'm attempting to begin the **_**joyful**_** process of moving home. I can do a really good 'Stressed Eric' impersonation at the minute.**

**Two thumbs up to everybody reviewing, reading, recommending the story (yikes – by the way) and adding this to their favs/alerts/C2's. I'll also get in a squishy thanks to everybody who offered to pre-read for me, I **_**really**_** appreciated all of the offers made. You're all fab, may Olderward bless you. I did my very best to respond to every offer, I think I got just about everyone, but I may well have missed some from the reviews – so a heartfelt sorry if I have. **

**And I **_**cannot**_** miss this wonderful lady out, as she's with us all for the long haul – my lovely human pixiekat7, who is now pre-reading for AMTDR. Ain't she just a treat? So major Edward-in-his-dark-grey-suit-pants-looking-Godly thanks to her for being simply fabulous! And a belated Happy Birthday – I'll leave the serenading to Edward. I'm crap at singing. Things die when I do. **

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"My riches consist not in the extent of my possessions, but in the fewness of my wants."

~ J. Brotherton.

_Chapter Seven_

You know, as a child, you can never really distinguish what is right and what is wrong for each family. You just know what is right for yours – everyone has their own 'norm'. Growing up, I think a lot of children live within their own familial bubbles, never really questioning the behaviourisms of others.

But when I was seven, I started to take notice. I began to see… differences.

See, Peter Walters' mom was always on the sidelines, cheering her son on and handing out home baked goods whenever there was a sporting event on at school. Suzie Parker's dad used to haul her up onto his broad, muscular shoulders every Friday afternoon after he had finished work early and came to school to collect her – it used to make her so… happy. And Arthur 'freckle face' Bennett's parents used to get more excited about parents night than he did, knowing fine well every report would always be A+ perfect.

And whilst I am sure many children took no notice of these private moments between parent and child, I did.

And I came to a conclusion.

They were all, utterly and completely – _weird_.

But time kept creeping forwards, as time has a habit of doing. And I took stock of how… regular an occurrence this all was. It seemed to me as if the whole school was under some kind of magical spell, for every parent that I could see, simply _doted_ on their child.

I didn't get it.

Being the ever logical child that _I_ was, I had decided to get to the bottom of this… whatever it was. This… conundrum.

I decided to conduct an… experiment, of sorts.

Notepad at the ready, I had singled out six different children to watch, and avidly spent a whole week jotting down my observations from a quite area of the school yard. The results were really quite startling.

I found that each parent made an effort to personally drop off and pick up their child before and after school. I found that the parents enthusiastically engaged in 'school talk' with their children - what had they learned that day, who had they played with, did they eat all of their lunch, and so on. I found that many of the parents knew each other, and actively encouraged this bizarre concept of 'play dates' outside of school hours. But most shockingly of all, I found that this… this oddity of lavishing ones child with affection and praise - was really very common.

Entirely stumped and not quite ready to fully embrace my seven year old cynicism, I took it upon myself to interview every child that I had been watching. I had decided to ask them one question, and it was the same question for all – because that was the 'fair' way to do things. Miss Jones had explained this to us during a science experiment in class one afternoon – you always had to be 'fair' and give equal measure to all things.

So I put forth my question.

_Why do your parents hug you so much?_

I was genuinely curious having been watching them all, but the responses left me seriously questioning many aspects of my life.

_Because my mommy loves me._

_Because my daddy says I give the best hugs. _

_Because they really like me._

_Because my mommy says that hugs make the world go round. _

_Because they love me stupid!_

And my favourite, because to me, it made the most sense: _because if I give her a really good hug, I get desert after I eat up all my carrots. _

The thing that I had found truly puzzling was how all of these other parents hugged their children, but mine never hugged me. And I had never thought to question it before. It was just the way that it had always been – it was my norm. But apparently, it was not the norm for so many others.

_Was there something wrong with my family?_ I had internally quizzed.

Determined to figure this out, I had gone home that day after school and had been on my best behaviour, as per usual. When dinner was served, I ate all of my greens. I did my reading task for school and had my mom sign my jotter to say that 'we' had completed the task 'together' – I had asked her, but she didn't have time. Not that it mattered, I had never needed any help with my school work - I was a very able child, and proudly so.

I did my best to engage my mom in 'chatter', telling her of my 'student of the week' win, and my reading age ability going up once again. I had received a gold star for improving my handwriting and my teacher spoke very highly of the poem I had written about my neighbour's dog. Though she did question why I had written about said dog, instead of sticking to the original 'my favourite _person_ in the whole wide world is…' theme.

I waited for the praise to come, as I had witnessed it being dished out to my fellow peers at school frequently, and for accomplishments not as great as mine, I might add. But it did not come. No praise.

Stumped again.

I did not make a fuss about washing up, or brushing my teeth, or even going to bed that night. I required no prompting for the tasks; it was up to me to sort myself out. And come bedtime, I waited for my mother to hug me, thinking that I had done well and perhaps she would be pleased with me. This was seemingly the general consensus with my peers; their parents gave them a hug for doing well and being proud of them – for 'liking' them.

But again, it never came.

No praise, no hug – nada.

Confusion had swept through me like a tidal wave; I thought I had done everything required of me. And if I am to be honest, I had quite liked the idea of receiving a hug. It looked to be a highly comforting gesture, and my peers had all seemed to quite like receiving them.

I did not sleep too well that evening. I spent most of the night staring up at my ceiling, a constant frown upon my face, wondering what I had done wrong. But I could not think of anything. And as the evening ticked on by, Drew Vevers' words began to echo within my mind, taunting me – telling me that I was missing some big clue.

_Because they really like me._

Did that mean my mother didn't like me? What was wrong with me? I was an excellent student, I worked very hard. I kept my room tidy and was never cheeky. I kept out of her way as much as possible, as per her requests. I kept myself entertained on weekends so as not to bother her. I never whined or begged for toys. In fact, the only things I ever asked of my mother were school related and were of no expense to her – joining the book club, for instance. Generally speaking, I had always thought of myself as quite a nice child.

As morning broke, things were no clearer.

It wasn't until I stepped into the shower that morning to wash that it finally hit me. And odd as it may sound; it was something as inconsequential as my mom's shampoo bottle that brought forth my great revelation.

It was not that everyone else was different; it was not even that my parents were different. It was me. I was different. My mom was always muttering about how I was nothing like her, that she did not know who I took after because I was so 'different' from her and Charlie.

It was a little disheartening. I quite liked 'me'. But for some strange reason, I felt a nag in the pit of my stomach, telling me that I wanted - no needed, my mom to like me. And perhaps if I was more like my mom, she _would_…

Decision made, I had snatched up my mom's shampoo and doused my hair in it, revelling in my genius… my ability to uncover and solve the problem. And just to make sure it really worked, I had washed my hair _three_ times using her product, making sure the scent really stuck. This would make me more like her, I had thought. I would smell like her and she would like me for it.

Yes… that is what I had thought.

I had never seen my mother so enraged. It must have been strongly scented shampoo, for that woman's head had whipped around so quickly upon my entrance into the kitchen that morning, that I have since likened it to the 'Exorcist 360' move.

Apparently, said shampoo was not only imported and insanely expensive, but used some rare and quite frankly - ruddy silly ingredients, like essence of monkey ass or something. And unbeknownst to me - I was _never_ to touch it.

She was so angry with me. Even angrier then when I broke my arm. She pulled me from my book club, my swimming lessons and told me I was no longer allowed to go to the library at the weekends. The 'punishments' only lasted a week before she got sick of having me in the house constantly. Longest time period of my _life_, let me tell you.

When I overheard her on the telephone screaming at my dad, words such as '_that girl_', and 'ruins everything!' and 'people who actually enjoy this are insane', were used. She also demanded that he replace the shampoo, because apparently, this was all 'his fault'. I didn't understand that. But I had decided to air on the side of caution and not ask.

I had felt awful. I hadn't meant to upset her. The shampoo had not worked, and I had failed.

I tried to apologise - I even told her of my reasons behind doing it. She told me to grow up and stop being so silly.

"_Hugs are for teddy bears!"_ She had screeched, turning a rather vibrant shade of puce.

I had left for school feeling as though I had the weight of the world upon my shoulders. My seven year old cynicism decided to stick around a while longer; in fact, it got progressively worse with each passing year. I decided that my peers and their families were obviously from the planet Mars. If they had to go through all of that for a hug, then they were too dumb for words. Either that, or I really was the odd one out and my parents just really didn't like me very much. I don't think I ever settled on which situation I found the most unsettling… Mars _did_ look kind of scary.

I had spent the next few months skirting around the edges of the shower, worried that that bloody shampoo bottle would zap me with some electromagnetic force field protection thing if I so much as looked at it for too long.

I can't say that I have ever cared for hugs, or expensive shampoo, since. They were on my 'danger – beware' list. Cats came in third, despite being highly allergic.

You can probably understand then, how alarm had shot through me this morning when I had climbed into the shower in Edward's suite… sans shower products.

_Stupid_.

I had left them at home. I'd had to use his. I may have been on the brink of a mild panic attack half way through rinsing.

I can't even begin to explain how on edge I was as I dressed myself and joined him back in the sitting area. I didn't know what to expect – would he be mad too? Was using someone else shampoo a massive faux pas, or was that particular 'special' quality just reserved for my own mother?

I was waiting nervously for the explosive reprimand, for the severe scolding over using his things… but it never came.

Edward surprised me… completely baffled me, actually.

He… _liked_ it.

In fact, the oddity that is Edward Cullen had instead buried his nose into my hair, inhaled deeply and then made some mumbled comment about a 'dangerous creature'.

I had not a clue! The man was like an unsolved riddle, and I was beginning to wonder if adding human beings in _general_ to my 'dangerous' list was a serious overreaction, or if it was merely the sensible thing to do.

(*)

Elliott Bay was stunning, and it captured my attention wholeheartedly as I stood and admired the view from the balcony. It was just breathtaking. I felt… enraptured.

But when I felt two, strong, well toned arms wrap their way around my torso… I froze.

My grip on the glass balustrade tightened, and I found my inner voice having to lecture me on the art of relaxing yet again. I had been hearing a lot from her this morning. She had gone from understanding and breezy, to high pitched and demanding, to now wanting to throw her copy of '_Overcoming Anxiety for Dummies, UK Edition_' straight at me. We had already torn through the American edition – mostly during my shower, and she was fast losing patience with me.

I couldn't help it.

She disagreed.

I wanted her to shut up and leave me be.

She put on her camo gear, adjusted her hardhat and gave me a 'drill sergeant, no nonsense' glare. Inner was 'in it' for good.

Gah!

If Edward felt my start, he gave no indication of it. Instead, his chin came to rest on top of my head, and his arms tightened around me.

_Hussy_ revelled in the feeling of him behind me, radiating warmth, his chest hard and pressed firmly against my back, the general tingle of merely being wrapped up within him swishing and swashing through my veins. He smelled clean and fresh from his shower… smelled like me. It was heady. My poor, screaming would-be murder victim however, was a blubbering, shaking mess, all drenched in sweat and curled up foetal style. Inner was siding with Hussy. They were as thick as thieves. Bullies. No doubt Inner would start coaching Hussy's cheer squad as a marked sign of sisterhood.

It's not that I meant to be deliberately awkward; in fact, I thought I was getting better. I found that if I was facing Edward and I could see him coming towards me in an… affectionate manner, I could at least… prepare myself. But the times where he came at from behind and I was stood, or sat, unknowing and unaware of his intent, well, that's when I became 'Bella the Terrified Statue'. And suffice to say, Edward had taken me by surprise quite a few times this morning.

It was becoming wholly apparent that Edward was an extremely affectionate being. It was almost as if he needed it… craved it… revelled in it. And the tragically amusing thing about that was how… uncomfortable I was with the notion. He could not have picked a less attentive person to lavish his charms upon.

Ever since I had woken up this morning and joined him for breakfast, I had felt a shift of sorts. It was present in the way he gazed at me, the way his fingers constantly sought out contact with my own, the way his eyes followed me whenever I had moved about the suite. When we had sat down to watch a little early morning news, he seated himself right next to me, taking a hold of my hand, or placing his own upon my leg, sometimes in my hair. I sensed him just… staring at me for minutes on end at times.

If you were to ask me why – I could not give you an answer. It confounded me – _he_ confounded me. It was almost as if he expected me to bolt at any minute and he just had to touch me one last time.

I felt Edward inhale deeply, his nose sunken into my locks, and I cringed automatically, waiting for the coming onslaught. It took a moment to click, for the realisation to dawn – Edward did not mind. He was smelling me… smelling like him… smelling the same.

Lord, what a mouthful.

His nose was still nudging gently through my tendrils when he asked, "Do you even comprehend how lovely that is?"

I breathed in deeply, inhaling the scent of the water, determined to imprint it on my mind forever. I wanted to take it with me.

"What is?"

His chuckle was felt all the way from the bottom of my spine, to the tips of my ears. It made my body shiver and tingle – in that good way again.

"I fear I may have to add 'use Mr. Cullen's shampoo at _all_ times' to the contract. Now I really don't want to let you leave."

I swatted his arm and rolled my eyes.

_Honestly_…

What was it about shampoo that brought out such strange reactions in people?

I sighed, looking out at the vast expanse of the bay before me. "It's so lovely here."

This trip had admittedly been the first time that I had ever really seen it, and yet I had a knot in my stomach at the thought of leaving. I had not spent any time exploring this eclipsing part of the country, and I felt a sudden pang in my chest at the realisation of leaving it all behind, mostly unseen.

Edward's nose moved from my hair and began to nuzzle into my neck, and despite the many conflicting emotions way warding about within me, I found myself sinking into him, greedily grabbing at the comfort he was offering. It was just exhausting fighting against it. I would snatch at the feeling for now, and chastise myself later.

"Hmm," his lips left a trail of three small kisses against the side of my neck. "I'll buy an apartment here. That way, you can always come back."

I turned my head towards him and very nearly snorted. Edward seemed to have a way of bringing that particular sound out of me – a lot.

"I hope you're joking."

His lips twitched. "Would you rather I built a place instead?"

Oh look who's decided to be cute…

I narrowed my eyes. "That is not what I meant and you know it."

"Well in that case, no - I wasn't joking." He winked. "Although, judging our earlier… disagreement, I'm not entirely sure I would enjoy the fall out if I did."

Oh not this again!

"Edward, I am perfectly capable of buying my own plane ticket to New York. And sending a courier to my home with packing paraphernalia is just absurd! There are boxes galore at my work."

He grinned at me. That dopey, lopsided grin of his that could melt even the hardest of women within a millisecond. He had pulled _that_ grin out earlier, and let me tell you, it was hard to stand your ground against it. And he knew it. Smug nuisance.

"Well, it's been taken care of now anyways."

Insufferable man.

Did he have to look so unbelievably happy about it?

I scowled and turned my face away from his, glaring out at the water. He was enjoying this. It was irritating. Naturally, I had lost the earlier argument because Mr. I Have a Blackberry and Can Make a Call to Every Being on The Ruddy Planet Almost Instantaneously had literally pressed a couple of numbers on that blasted phone of his, and had me booked onto a first class flight to New York, on Saturday afternoon, within minutes.

Tell me, exactly how is one to compete against that?

The second call he made - straight after the first, had been to a local moving company in Forks, leaving strict instructions to not only come and collect my things tomorrow morning, _oh no, no_ - there would also be a delivery of boxes and all other kinds of home moving crap awaiting my return _today_.

I had, _very calmly_, tried to object and argue all of this. I was a perfectly able, functioning being with savings after all. Edward however, had thrust a bowl of fruit salad my way, pulled out that grin of his and told me to stop being 'ridiculous'.

I had refrained – with great decorum on my part, I might add – from throwing my grapes at him.

Contract sighed or not, this money thing was going to cause tiffs. Stubborn with money – a lethal combination in my opinion.

It's not that I was ungrateful. I could not think of a way to even express with words how thankful I was for finding this seemingly incredible, too-good-to-be-true man. But I felt… cheap, doing what I was doing. Having money thrown at me was massively uncomfortable. I didn't like it. And he did it with such _ease_!

"Much as I hate to say it," Edward mumbled, squeezing me tightly. "But it's time to go."

Yes. Yes I suppose it was.

Ten minutes later, I was stood next to Angela's Mini watching as Edward put my overnight bag into the back.

I did try not to ogle him. It was hard. The man awoke the strangest feelings within me. It was the thighs. It was all their fault. Illegal thighs. I just wanted to wrap my fingers around them… bare… and exposed… and…

_What?_

_Down Hussy! Down!_

"You promise me you will call or send me a text as soon as you have reached Bainbridge Island safely and once again when you have arrived home?" He asked, closing the car door quickly.

I nodded, smiling. I actually felt a little… saddened to be going. Although, I did think some reflective distance was needed - so much had happened. He couldn't throw money at me with all of those miles between us either.

Edward stuffed his hands into his pockets and walked towards me slowly. He looked shy all of a sudden, amazingly God-like, but shy.

"Would it be _entirely_ inappropriate of me to say that I wish it was already Saturday?"

I chuckled. Nervous as I was about the move, I had to admit, the same thought had crossed my mind as well. I found myself somewhat eager to begin this next phase of my life… college… New York... Edward. I was getting my dream. He was making it all come true.

How surreal.

For the time being, and with a great effort on my part, I was managing to keep my early morning feelings locked up tight. I was trying exponentially hard to just… let things be. This was what I had sought out, what I had signed up for, and I _had_ to get used to it.

"Not _entirely_ inappropriate, no." I smirked.

It felt nice actually, knowing he felt that way. There was something very… soothing about having a person wish a little time away, just so that you could be with them once again. Yes, I decided I quite liked that.

Glancing back at the car briefly, Edward seemed to be deep in thought. "What were you planning on doing about your car, Bella? It's… new. Were you going to leave it at home or would you like for me to arrange a collection, and have it brought over to New York?"

I bit my lip, feeling the blush spreading across my cheeks.

"Uh… it's not my car. My friend leant it to me for the trip."

He cocked his head. "You don't have your own vehicle?"

Sighing, I reached a hand out to glide across Angela's fabulous little nipper. I was fond of this car.

The action did not go unnoticed by Edward.

"No I do. But my truck couldn't have made the journey. I'll have to get rid of it before I leave; I suspect it's probably ready for the scrap heap now."

Edward's eyes widened. "Is it safe to drive?"

"Yes, it's just old." I said protectively. I loved my truck. Good old truck. Big pat on the hood for truck.

He was watching me carefully, almost as if weighing something up.

"Are you sure?" He asked slowly.

Oh for the love of Pete…

"Don't you have a nine o'clock meeting to get to?"

Edward's hands shot up in a surrendering gesture. "Alright, alright." He grinned, taking the final step towards me and bending down. "I just want you in one piece."

I felt the light touch of his kiss at the corner of my mouth, and thawed instantly. My… that felt nice.

"I would be most displeased were anything to happen to you, Bella." He whispered, words vibrating against my lips.

_Oh chuffing my_…

"Nothing's going to happen to me." I replied, almost inaudibly through my sudden breathlessness.

What was this man _doing_ to me?

"Mighty glad to hear it, Miss Swan."

And then his lips were right on mine. For the second time. Feeling divine and right and… gah! No words. I had no words.

It was like some sort of sensual, tangled lip-lock-down. They were smooth and warm, just a little wet and oh so addictive. Edward was not forceful, there was no dominant set - it was simply slow and… enjoyable. It was a squirm worthy kiss. And it made me forget about everything. When kissing Edward… there was only the kiss. All other thoughts and worries seemed to evaporate.

I all but melted when I felt my top lip become encased between both of his, being ever so gently sucked on.

So soft! The slight scent of butter mints surrounded me, and I felt dizzy.

I vaguely registered my face being cupped by two large hands… fingers stroking my cheeks… running through my hair.

My own hands came to rest upon his chest… flattening out against the hard, well muscled planes. I could feel him beneath me, feel him breathing, feel him… reacting to me as his breath sped and his hold tightened. Edward wanted to kiss me. He was _enjoying_ kissing me.

And as much as I was enjoying being kissed, I was fairly certain that I was turning purple and about to pass out. I needed air.

I broke away, relieved and much less embarrassed to find that I was not the only one panting.

And because I was readily gifted with zero verbal elegance and social piranha-ism to boot, I randomly blurted out, "Edward… what did you say to Laurent last night?"

He blinked suddenly, clearly not expecting, well… _that_.

_Can you _blame_ him? I can't work with you – you're a moron!_

"When?"

Cute again…

"You know when."

Sighing, his forehead came to rest against mine. "You looked so… uncomfortable. I wasn't prepared to let him make you feel even more so by hassling you for your lack of appetite."

I frowned. "So you… told him off before he could? He looked like a thrashed puppy."

He shrugged it off, acting as if it was nothing.

"Edward, exactly what did you say to the poor man?"

His bottom lip was suddenly sucked into his mouth.

Oh… did he feel bad, perhaps even a little guilty?

"_Edward?_"

He heaved out a sigh. "I told him that if he valued his job at the hotel, he would keep quiet and let it go. Or words to that extent. Like I said, I'm a very good customer."

I think my mouth hit the ground. _He said that?_

"Mr. Cullen, you big meanie!" I admonished. Truth be told, I was not sure if I was more shocked, or more grateful that he had done it.

He at least had the decency to look sheepish. "I left him a hefty tip. Am I redeemed?"

Rolling my eyes, I walked around him and to the driver's side door. "Buying forgiveness Edward? Really?" I teased playfully.

"Easy when you have the resources to do so, Miss Swan." He grinned boyishly.

I shook my head and opened the door, leaning against it as I looked at him. "See you Saturday?"

Edward walked over to me, and with the car door between us, bent once again to peck me quickly on the lips. "Can't wait."

_You are SOOOOO in trouble with this one!_

I made a mental note to wallop Inner repeatedly with her copy of '_His Rags-to-Riches Bride_' later on. Mills and Boon, and in camo gear too… _honestly_!

(*)

It's a strange thing you know, to pack up your whole life when you are all too aware of needing to unpack somewhere along the way, at the point of final destination – the end of your journey. It seemed silly really, to go through so much effort, knowing fine well everything would need to be unboxed so soon.

I couldn't help but wonder how all of my belongings would look in my new 'home'. Admittedly, there wasn't very much. I did not have a great deal to treasure - no hoards of collectibles or trinkets to cherish, nor mounds of memories held within photo albums and picture frames to pour over. My closet was sparse and the larger items in my possession would be remaining here. I would have to scrap my truck, leave my computer and printer, and my decrepit television and DVD player would likely fall apart the minute they were moved an inch – so they were going _nowhere_. The TV aerial also liked to stab me. I hadn't switched the blasted thing on in months for fear of a fight. It could stay with Charlie. Revenge is a sweet, sweet thing.

No. I had a limited supply of personal effects. Sad really… when you think about it. Nearly nineteen years I had spent on this earth, and I would be lucky to fill three boxes. Well, that's not strictly true. I had a decent collection of books…

True to his word, Edward had a mass of moving boxes, bubble wrap, labels and tape awaiting my return this afternoon. It looked like cardboard factory hell to me - a little over the top Mr. Cullen, no? And when I say 'awaiting my return', I mean that quite literally. The poor delivery man had been sitting outside for nearly an hour before I pulled up. I buried the 'I wonder how much _this_ particular service cost him' thought deep, deep down. Recently, everything was about dollar signs. I was sick to death of thinking about money at every turn.

The delivery man – Roy, had brought everything inside for me, and promised to swing by again early tomorrow morning to get everything picked up. I felt a little… off, knowing that my things would be at Edward's house in New York before I was. My life in boxes… in a strange place… with no me.

I tried to squash down the unease.

I decided to start with my closet first. I found my tattered, old, brown leather suitcase sat up high on the top shelf; there was something incredibly Paddington Bear-esque about it. It had seen me through many journeys during my time, lugging my things about without complaint every summer whilst I moved from my mother's home to my father's. Parts of it were badly torn now, and I wasn't wholly convinced the handle would stay in tact. But it was the only one that I had. Hopefully it would see me through this one last leg.

My closet was relatively bare. I had what I needed, though admittedly most of the items now needed replacing. My shopping trip with Angela last week had been the first in a very long time. I had been so anxious to save every penny I had for college, that I had dared not spend _any_ money this past year.

Upon closer inspection, it looked as though most things now needed chucking away. Excluding the few new bits I had bought, I only had one decent pair of jeans left, the only pair that weren't frayed around the bottoms. A lot of my tops and shirts looked as though they had been put through the wash a few too many times. I had a couple of button up plaid shirts that were still in decent condition, and I found three band T's that I couldn't bear to part with. Angela and I had always enjoyed scouting out tickets for everything we could possibly go and see. I still kept an envelope stuffed full with all of the old ticket stubs.

Both pairs of my sneakers looked as though they wouldn't be too out of place of the set of Oliver Twist, and my black winter coat was missing a button… or three. My socks had all turned from black to grey, and I won't even comment on the pathetic state of my underwear drawer. Who knew they used so much elastic in panties?

Gah!

No wonder I had always been avoided at school – I was fast approaching tramp territory. I couldn't go to New York with this lot. I had never thought of myself as a proud person in this particular respect, but there was something very new leaf-ish about my move, and I found myself yearning for a fresh start - for fresh things.

Was that terribly wrong of me?

There was also this small part of me that didn't want to… embarrass Edward with my shabby appearance.

_Good God, Swan! Let's crank up the volume, Carly Simon's wants the serenade to be LOUDER!_

Humph!

I didn't mean to be vain. But Edward was doing so… much. He was this huge New York biggie and yes, I was a student. But that didn't mean I had to royally take the biscuit and dress like a constant slob whilst there, right? I should at least make a little effort to try and look less pauper-like for him after everything he had offered me.

Maybe I could ask Angela if she fancied doing another blast around Port Angeles before Saturday. The things that she had helped me pick out for going to see Edward were fairly nice, not my normal get up, but certainly a little more mature – more feminine. And New York was a 'stylish' place that actually had seasons, not just perpetual rain. Perhaps it was time to stop slumming it in well-worn Converse and holey jeans. Well… do it a little less, anyway.

Was it really very awful of me to quite like the idea of treating myself to some new things? I had worked so, so hard the last couple of years at Newton's. I had scrimped and saved every dime. I almost felt I was due some new Converse – I had worked ruddy hard for them.

I decided to give Ang a call tomorrow and ask.

Meanwhile, I snapped to and opened a large, black trash bag and began throwing my old, tatty clothes straight into it. By the time the closet was cleared and sorted, I had a rather sad little pile left. But I was, for some odd reason, feeling much better for having done it.

I popped up one of the flat packed boxes next and set it down on my bed, opting to make a start on the about-ready-to-buckle-from-the-weight bookshelf. Suddenly, Edward's excessive supplies seemed… about right – books took up space! I couldn't believe how many I had. I soon couldn't see the floor for all of the boxes. And at this rate, I was almost resigned to a hospital visit, knowing full well that I had to get everything moved downstairs.

Eight boxes of books I filled. Eight. _Large_. Boxes. On the plus side, I had found my old copy of _The Great Gatsby_. I hadn't seen it for nearly two years, and no wonder with the state of the shelving arrangement.

I taped closed another four boxes, before I was finally finished. My alarm clocked flashed 11:15PM and I felt utterly _exhausted_.

Grabbing a hold of a thick black marker, I mustered enough energy to scribble out Edward's address twelve times, and stuck the small labels to the ruddy cardboard.

_63 Bethune Street _

_West Village _

_New York _

_NY 10014._

Sounded fancy.

I very nearly bawled my eyes out as I – somehow – managed to carry each box down into the hallway, stacking them as neatly as possible. Everything hurt as I returned to my room and collapsed onto my bed, determined that if I ever saw another damned box again, I would take a blow torch to it.

When my phone 'dinged', I was sorely tempted to throw it out of the window. Snatching it up, I saw that I had three missed calls and a text message. All from Edward.

**Sender: **Edward

**Date: **24 August 22:13

_I am going to presume you are busy packing?_

_Just making sure everything is going smoothly. _

_Oh, and what is your favourite colour? ~E_

_Packing_. I growled at the mere thought of it. People who moved around a lot were insane.

I hit reply.

**To: **Edward

**Date: **24 August 23:43

_I can't feel my arms. I am never moving again. _

_Yes, I have been packing. Sorry I missed your calls. _

_And green, why? ~B_

His reply was swift; I was beginning to think the man's Blackberry was super glued to him at all times.

**Sender: **Edward

**Date: **24 August 23:45

_Never moving again? I can keep you? ;)_

_Please be careful, don't go hauling things about yourself - _

_I have hired somebody to do that for you. _

_I'll call tomorrow – pick up, I worry! ~E_

I rolled my eyes.

I might have smiled.

_Hussy_ did a star jump mid-air and squealed. I think she quite liked Mr. Cullen.

(*)

I had woken up early, showered and dressed and prepared myself for a day at work. Two more days – and I would be free. No more Newton's. Ever.

I almost felt like slaughtering a cow and making an offering at the feet of my own personal God, now known as Edward Cullen - my Newton's saviour. Perhaps I would burn my orange vest on Thursday as well. The ladies of Woodstock were legendary for burning their bras; I could take a stand and mould my own meaning from that…

No, that was silly. My would-be murder victim was scared senseless of fire. But still…

I was pacing about in the kitchen, drinking my second cup of coffee and grimacing with every sip. I liked my vanilla bean coffee; this regular stuff just didn't cut it. Unfortunately it had been packed, along with _my_ coffee mug. I was making do.

Roy had said he would be here at half past eight to collect the boxes, and I was avidly clock watching as the minute hand ticked passed thirty-five minutes to nine. At this rate, I would be late for work.

When I eventually heard footsteps clomping up the porch steps, I downed the rest of my coffee and quickly went to rinse out the mug.

But no knock came; instead, I heard keys jangling about as they unlocked the front door.

I felt my face _pale_.

"What the-" Charlie stuttered as the door was slammed shut, rattling every window in the house. "What in the name of God?" I could hear boxes being kicked, his large feet tripping all over my things. "BELLA!"

Oh Lord… what was he doing here? He was supposed to be at work until ten!

"BELLA!"

Crap.

I squeezed my eyes shut tight, clenched my jaw and winced. "Yeah?"

"Get in here!"

I set the mug onto the side drainer and slowly walked through to the hallway. He was busy scratching his head and tearing his gaze all around the area, mumbling away to himself, as per usual.

His eyes roved to mine. He looked as though he might start breathing fire at any moment. "What the hell's this? I nearly _died_ tripping over this lot!"

Wonderful. Angry Charlie.

How best to broach this…?

Oh to hell with it!

"I'm going to New York. The mover should be here soon to collect the boxes."

He narrowed his eyes. "Well call and tell him to hurry it up! I want them out my damn hallway!" He snapped. "They're a hazard!"

_I'll miss you too._

I bit my lip. "He should be here soon. He said half past…"

He grunted out something about 'useless workers', but it wasn't very clear. Very little of what Charlie ever said _was_ clear.

"Wait a minute… what's in New York?" His beady eyes were comically searching my face for answers, though I think he must have already guessed it.

"College," I replied simply, shrugging my shoulders.

"And just how are you paying for it? How many times have we told you that there isn't any money for you to go? How many times, Bella?" He demanded, his tone forceful.

_More than I care to remember…_

"I got a… last minute sponsor." It wasn't a full lie. Edward was kind of like a sponsor.

"How nice," he bit out. "And exactly how are you going to support yourself? Because you know where your mother and I stand on this, Bella. You have been told no."

"I'm staying with a… friend. I've got some savings and I guess I'll get a job when I get there." That was easy enough to believe, right?

Why was he so angry? I wasn't asking _him_ for anything. We had both been waiting for the day I finally left to come around for years.

A sudden tapping cut off whatever Charlie was about to say next and luckily, Roy was on the other side of the door with a box lugging contraption, ready and raring to go. I was all too happy to assist him in loading my twelve boxes into his van. When he finally pulled away, I realised just how late I was and sped inside to grab my bag and Angela's car keys.

"You'll need to phone your mother and let her know," Charlie shouted from the living room. The TV set was already blaring.

"Uh… yeah…" I said awkwardly, not wanting to think about that particular conversation just yet. "My flight is on Saturday and my room's been cleared. I'll see you later."

I think that was the longest conversation I had ever had with my father. It was unnerving to hear him _talk_ so much.

(*)

Work dragged by and for once, I was relieved. It meant that for nine glorious hours, I had managed to put off the dreaded task of making a phone call to her – the shampoo Nazi.

Unfortunately, the minute I arrived home - time sped up.

Every clock in the house mocked me as I made dinner, ate, put a plate in the microwave for Charlie, washed up, phoned Angela to schedule a trip to Port Angeles on Friday, and then cleaned some. And all the while, the minutes kept on ticking by far too quickly, and eventually I had run out of things to procrastinate over. I could no longer put it off. My minutes were up.

Biting my lip painfully hard, I picked up the kitchen phone and dialled a number I had not had the displeasure of calling for two years.

My fingers were literally quaking. I felt ill.

I heard my cell phone ringing and cringed knowing who it would be, but knowing that I had to get this over with first – I ignored it.

He sure had a knack for calling at the worst flippin' times…

I was about to give up hope of getting through – I was inwardly doing the tango – when eventually, the dial tone cut off.

The female on the other end cleared their throat - even managing to make the sound dictate exactly how she felt about being called. She was obviously annoyed.

"_Yes?_"

Still as snarky as ever…

I felt really, really sick.

_Should have eaten _after_ phoning!_

"Hi, it's… uh… it's Bella."

Silence.

Closely followed by a derisive snort.

"What do _you_ want?" Her tone was glacial.

Apparently, I was still not forgiven. Such was my familial norm.

* * *

**Update and reunion – working on it now, so soon. **

**4****th**** Street :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Stephanie Meyer owns Twilight, no copyright infringement intended. **

**Thank you to everybody who reviewed and to those reading and adding this to their favs/alerts/c2's. And of course to those who are recommending AMTDR – boggles my flippin' mind. Also big thanks to Leslie and anybody else who may have voted my way in the Inspired Awards. I think the first round of voting closed on Wednesday 23****rd****? I believe there was something like 56 fics to vote for in the category so I highly doubt anything will come of it lol, but a heartfelt thank you either way :)**

**Huge thanks to my human, pixiekat7, for the pre-read. She's fab!

* * *

**

"There are two levels to your pain: the pain that you create now, and the pain from the past that still lives on in your mind and body. Ceasing to create pain in the present and dissolving past pain - this is what I want to talk about now."

~ Eckhart Tolle

_Chapter Eight_

My mother had been angry with me for two years. You see, the summer just before I had turned sixteen, I had moved to Forks for Charlie's 'year'. Upon starting school that fall, I'd met a lovely girl by the name of Angela Weber. And she soon became my first real friend.

Angela was new in town. Her father was the newly appointed minister at the Lutheran church and she was quiet, reserved and very sweet. Ang didn't know anybody and like me; she had found herself utterly lost in the 'High School game'.

It had always been awkward for me each starting back to school each year. People would vaguely remember me, but because I had only ever been around for alternate years, I had never settled very well. Every year had been like starting afresh all over again. I had always been the new girl and it had been painful – and lonely.

But I had found a best friend in Angela. So when summer had rolled around the following year I had been determined to stay in Forks. With only two years left of High School; the move back to Phoenix would have simply been too disruptive to my studies. And I had admittedly found the idea of leaving my new friend just abhorrent. I couldn't have done it. I had finally found a little piece of 'settled' pie – and I had liked it.

Renee however, did not take the news well.

Charlie, whilst not very happy with having me for three consecutive years, had been evidently over the moon at not having to pay my mother any more child support. Ever.

And that is what it had come down to. Money.

My mother had, for want of a better phrase, completely 'lost' it. She'd told me that I was breaking a longstanding agreement between Charlie and her, an agreement that had been put in place to act 'fairly and in your best interests, Isabella.' Apparently, I had been acting 'selfishly'. Realistically, I had known that my staying in Forks meant that my mother would've had to reconsider her monthly purchase of expensive monkey-ass shampoo.

Karma's a B.I.T.C.H huh?

She had refused to speak to me ever since. I had 'betrayed' the bonds that formed our mother-daughter relationship. I knew that to be total bull. 'We' didn't have a relationship. _She_ had always had her monthly cheque, and _I_ had always had my books. Good old escapism.

So I stayed. And whilst living with Charlie was not ideal, for the most part he had left me well alone and I became very well versed in the art of blending into the wallpaper when he was at home and not ignoring me.

Renee never called me and I never called her. Charlie had acted as a buffer between the two of us when I had asked about college tuition. That had been the one and only time I had actively 'conversed' with her these last two years, though it had been through my father.

And now here I was, clammy skinned and shaking with her on the other end of the telephone. And she sounded _so_ happy to hear from me.

"Well?" She snapped. "Are you suddenly mute? I have a facemask on Isabella, make it quick!"

Some sinister part of me hoped to God that when it came to removing said facemask, it stuck and refused to be peeled off. Forever green she would be.

Hussy fainted at the mere thought of it. Her fellow cheer team members began fanning their pompoms above her face, trying to awaken their fallen front woman – without her the Liberty Twist just wouldn't work.

"I… uh…" I exhaled loudly, swiping my fingers roughly over my eyes. Even from such a distance, there was still something so chilling about my mother. She set my teeth on edge. "I'm moving."

"What?" She asked bitingly.

In my later years, I had often likened my mother to a viper. She was temperamental and always ready to strike, everybody was a potential threat. I had learned fairly early on that it was never a case of picking and choosing your battles with Renee, you just had to avoid them altogether. No battle was worth fighting.

Angela was the only person with whom I had ever freely spoken to about my family life. It disgusted her. Ang had never been able to get around my mother's coldness, or my father's non-committal attitude towards parenthood. But in Renee's defence, it was just her way. Her attitude towards me was not singular, Renee was just Renee. My mother had never been the maternal sort; she had never been able to distinguish between how to treat others and how to treat me. Thus, everyone was treated the same. Unless you were giving away free samples of product, there was no such thing as special treatment in Renee's world.

I swallowed quickly. "I said I'm moving."

"What do you mean you are moving, Isabella? Honestly, is this entire conversation going to be like _pulling teeth_?"

"I'm moving to New York," I clarified. "For college. Charlie thought that I should let you know."

"How nice of him," she replied monotonously.

Oh… Charlie was still in the dog house too.

"Well, now you know…" I trailed off uncertainly. I wasn't really sure what else needed to be said. I was not used to saying more than two or three words to my parents at any given time. 'Yes' and 'no' had served me reasonably well over the years.

"Wait a minute! What do you mean 'for college', Isabella? If I find out that your bastard of a father has offered to finance you…"

Money, money, money. I hated it. It always came down to money. And Edward wanted to 'spoil' me – insert snort here. I was as allergic to that idea as I was to being left in a room full of Persian cats.

I sighed. My cell phone began to ring again.

Wonderful. Just wonderful.

Hello Bella, welcome to your life! On the one hand we have your mother - angry with you for being born. On the other, we have Mr. Cullen - soon to be angry with you for not being able to follow through on a simple request and answer your damn phone!

Inner started poking me with a rather long stick. She had taken up position behind a large pile of sandbags and was continuously prodding me forwards to face my mother… to stand up to her for once.

_Easier said than done, Inner. _

She gave me a 'proceed on!' hand signal that looked as though it wouldn't be entirely out of place on an airport runway.

"No, he is not financing me." I said meekly, just wanting this conversation to end. I could already feel a headache coming on.

"Then just how are you paying for college? You win the lottery or something?" Renee barked.

Deep breaths Bella! She isn't here, remember? Deep breaths!

"I got a last minute sponsor." It was what I had told Charlie – best to stick with the same story, not that they would ever ask about it again.

Renee huffed petulantly. "Who on earth would ever want to sponsor you? What a ridiculous notion! You're _only_ going to college!"

I winced.

_If only she knew the truth…_

I gulped audibly. "I've been accepted to go and study at Columbia, Mom. It's kind of a big deal actually. It's considered to be the fourth best Ivy League college in the US and it's ranked eleventh in the world."

She snorted. "What good is your fancy college diploma to anybody else, Isabella? Answer me that!"

I may have stopped waiting for praise at the grand old age of seven, but that did not mean her words didn't sting a little.

"Can you not just be happy for me?" I blurted out, not thinking before I spoke. I felt like putting my head through the wall the minute the words had left my mouth. _Stupid_.

"Oh enough of your romantic nonsense already! Honestly Isabella, you have gone your whole life wanting to be mollycoddled and no wonder with your head constantly stuck in a fantasyland of books! What is there to be happy about exactly? A _free ride_ to college?" She sneered. "Are _you_ happy knowing you are nothing more than some rich persons charity case?"

_Charity case_? And that coming from the woman who had lived off of spousal support and my father's paycheque all of these years? She was being unfair. I hadn't been given any other options _but_ to accept charity, look at the position I found myself in. If I opted out of college, I would be stuck doing some dead-end job for minimum wage. I would be stuck here. And she would be the first person to criticise me for it. Yet my finding a solution to the problem and paving a way to further my education, to really make something of myself – was still the wrong thing to do.

I couldn't win.

And _free ride_? Was she trying to be funny? Was this her incredibly sick attempt at humour? I had just sold myself to a man that I didn't know, for _four years_. I had been forced into a corner where it was a case of either signing on the dotted line or waste away and do nothing.

I had worked my fingers to the bloody bone for the past two years to ensure my acceptance at an institution such as Columbia. I had exhausted myself in my attempts to garner their attention, to make them take notice of my application form amongst the thousands of others. I had made myself ill several times overloading on caffeine pills, just so that I could cram all the hours of the day full of study and work that I _possibly _could. And for what? To be criticised by a woman who had wasted her own potential and claimed independence whilst living off of her ex-husband?

_Oh_, I felt… rattled. Unbelievably so. In a matter of seconds she had managed to belittle two years worth of studious effort of my part and make it sound like… _nothing_.

And you know? How dare she!

"Believe it or not," I hissed suddenly, surprised by the vehemence in my own voice. "I have worked exceptionally hard to earn my place! What gives you the right to judge me for accepting a little help towards something that I have bent over backwards to achieve over the last two years?"

"How dare you-"

"How dare I? How. Dare. _I_?" I asked incredulously, cutting her off. "Might I remind you that I am in this position because of a severe lack in familial support? You and Charlie were not prepared to help in any way, Renee, remember? And now you have the audacity to scold me like an errant child for accepting an offered hand?"

"And might I remind you that I am your mother and I will be spoken to with respect!" She spat.

_Ohhhh_… _every_ part of me now wanted that blasted facemask to stick!

A strange sounding laugh began to bubble and break forth from my lips, catching me off guard. It sounded… nothing like me. But there was something, something deep within me that was desperate to just… let loose. I found myself picking this battle all of a sudden, determined to stand my ground until the very end. Inner and I were in this – and we were in it to win it.

I would give her _stubborn_!

"My _mother_?" I said with exaggerated disbelief. "Just hold on a minute! Let us not confuse the use of your womb for nine months with actually being a parent, Renee. There is a rather large gap between the two and there has never been a bridge in the middle for crossing."

Inner jumped on top of the sandbags, turned so that her back was facing us and pulled down her camo pants to moon my mother. She was – very maturely – singing 'ner, ner, ner, ner, ner!' at the top of her voice in between bouts of blowing raspberries. My would-be murder victim had made a sudden dive behind Inner; the only part of her visible was her backside, which was stuck right up in the air and shaking rather comically - like something out of a cartoon.

"I knew this would happen!" Renee shrieked. "I told you not to stay with him, I told you! Three years there and you have lost all manner of your senses! You do not speak to me that way Isabella!"

"Why, does the truth hurt?" I snapped, my tone hard and demanding.

Inner began 'booty shaking' her naked ass in time to the chorus of Christina Aguilera's 'Fighter', which she was currently belting out… not even bothering to try and stay in tune… not caring how unbelievably cliché it was.

_It makes me that much stronger_

_Makes me work a little bit harder_

_It makes me that much wiser_

_So thanks for making me – a fighter!_

Oh Inner, that sounds awful!

_Get with the beat, grumps!_

"You hateful girl! I did not raise you to talk to me like that!"

"You didn't raise me at all," I countered, feeling numb. I think the commonly used term was 'dead inside'.

It took me many years to figure it out, but Renee really _wasn't_ like any of the other mothers. She didn't want to _be _one. And that was fine. I could live with that. What I could not live with was having her demeaning my attempts to carve out a life for myself. I could not just stand back and allow her to make me feel bad about this, not when I was already warring with myself over the morality of my decision.

"Don't you give me that! After everything I have done for you, _this_ is how you treat me? I will not have it Isabella, I will not!"

Oh but mom, why can you not see? I won't 'have it' anymore either. I have just had enough. I have had my fill and I am full.

"You did the bare minimum and always put yourself first and you know what? That's alright." I admitted honestly. "But if you think that I am going to stand here and listen to you debase my attempts to better myself, then you are sorely mistaken. I have worked too hard for this!"

"Oh listen to you – all grown up and using big words!" Renee mocked harshly. "You selfish girl! You know something Isabella? Perhaps it is best that you stayed with Charlie after all - your constant disappointments are much easier to bear with a little distance."

I couldn't deny that hearing that hurt. Of course it hurt. There was something terribly cruel and hard to hear about the word 'disappointment', especially when a parent said it. Shouting and screaming and being thoroughly dragged across the coals were all much easier to handle than having a parent tell you you're a disappointment to them.

And as much as I wanted to feel like the wounded party, the stronger part of me wouldn't allow it. The stronger part of me had simply had enough. So I took a deep breath and donned Inner's hard-ass-in-a-hardhat attitude.

"And I once heard that if there is something wrong with the bitch, then there is usually something wrong with the pup. So I guess I'm not the only disappointment. Do you want my new address, or can I hang up now?"

_That told her!_

"WHY YOU LITTLE-"

I took that as a 'no' and feeling a sudden burst of boldness I just… hung up.

_Score one for Swan!_

Inner had broken into song once again, this time screeching 'celebration time C'MON!' through a megaphone, Hussy had recovered and was doing back flips and even poor little would-be was peeking out from behind the sandbags, waving a fluorescent yellow flag with the word 'victory' painted messily onto it.

_Oh my – I hung up on my mother! _

My grin was almost painful. I was officially ten whole 'proud of self' points up for the day.

(*)

I clambered into bed that night feeling… lighter.

Charlie had come home in a foul mood, grumping on about an irate Renee. I chose not to ask, though I could imagine what was said. And in all honesty, I really couldn't have cared. I was out of here on Saturday. I had two more days to go. The feeling was euphoric.

As I picked up my phone to turn on my alarm, I was assaulted with several violently flashing messages – two texts and a dozen missed calls. Yikes! I was suddenly popular.

**Sender**: Angela

**Date**: 25 August 20:07

_Hey sweetie!_

_I know we arranged for me to get_

_the car tomorrow, but just keep it _

_until Friday. I'll swing by with the truck_

_and drive us both into PA, okay?_

_Love you! ~A x_

I smiled and hit reply.

**To**: Angela

**Date**: 25 August 22:16

_Hey Ang!_

_Yeah, I guess that makes sense, thanks._

_I'll see you Friday! ~B_

I opened up my inbox again to see that the second message was from Edward.

**Sender**: Edward

**Date**: 25 August 19:38

_Bella is everything alright?_

_Call me – please. ~E_

Oops.

I hit reply again.

**To**: Edward

**Date**: 25 August 22:19

_Hi. I'm sorry; I had to speak to my mom_

_earlier and well… best to just forget it. _

_Everything is fine, I'm about to go to sleep – _

_work tomorrow. ~B_

I had not even reached my 'alarm' option before my cell rang.

Chuckling, I answered, "Good evening Edward."

Hussy bolted upright suddenly at the mention of his name and decided to change into her red sparkly 'I LOVE Me Some Older Man!' panties.

I rolled me eyes.

_Down Hussy!_

"Bella," he sighed, I think with relief. "Is everything okay? Are you alright?"

Good Lord, he really was a worrier.

Well… it was new I guess.

"I'm fine Edward. You?"

"Better now. You spoke to your mom?"

"Yes," I replied hesitantly.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No." It was done now… over… finito.

"Okay, uh… I have your flight information. Do you have a pen?" I could hear shuffling and tapping in the background.

_No, I have something even better! _Hussy purred. She was sprawled out on the floor, panties on show… her pleated skirt hitched up somewhere around her shoulders.

My God!

Shaking my head in attempt to shake Hussy out of it, I stood and walked over to my desk. I pulled some scrap paper and a pencil out of a drawer and sat down.

"You are on Alaska Airlines flight 8, you depart at 9:05 am from SeaTac and you should be getting into Newark at 5:30 pm - so long as there are no delays. Your reference number is 655327AA856; you'll need it to get your ticket. Do you have your passport?"

I silently mouthed the reference number as I jotted it down and mumbled an, 'mmm hmm' of assent to Edward.

"I have arranged for a car to collect you at half past three on Saturday morning to take you to the airport and I will be at Newark to meet you."

"Oh," I said, surprised. "That was… nice of you. You really didn't have to do that Edward; I could have made my own way there."

He scoffed. Actually scoffed. "Nonsense. This way you can catch up on a couple of lost hours sleep and I won't drive myself demented with worry having you out on the road by yourself at three in the morning. I know the company quite well; you will be in safe hands, Bella."

I shook my head in wonder. Oh to have money, huh?

"Well, thank you. That was… very thoughtful."

I felt a strange, rather pleasantly warm feeling sweep through me knowing this… knowing that he had cared enough to act in such a way. It was… well, it was quite heartening to have somebody care – to have someone looking out for me. I found that I liked it.

"I told you Bella, I will take care of you."

I felt my throat start to sting a little as I became flooded with alien-like emotion. I still couldn't fathom warranting this man's attention. I still didn't understand why anybody, not just Edward, but anybody would wish to 'take care of me'. I had always struggled with the concept, even with Angela. There wasn't a mean bone in my best friend's body and she was openly attached to me. I had never known how to respond to her warmness, to her goodness or her friendship, but I'd always hoped that Ang knew that she meant a great deal to me too. Even if I was lacking in the emotional department, I hoped with everything in me that my first friend knew how fond of her I was. She would be hard to leave behind.

"Bella," Edward sighed affectionately. "Are you sure that you are alright? Do you need anything?"

"No, no. I'm fine." I croaked. "It's just… been a long day."

"Are you positive? I can cancel some meetings and come get you tomorrow if you want. Just say the word and I'll be in Seattle tomorrow afternoon."

Holy mother of…

"No Edward, don't be silly. Really, I'm alright." Come get me? Surely I had imagined that? Had this man found me, or been _sent_ to me? Good Lord! It was only me!

_Cancel meetings_. Jeez…

"You're upset." It wasn't a question.

I took a deep breath and composed myself. _Silly Bella_!

"I'm not upset. Just a little overwhelmed I think. Honestly, I'm okay."

"Just promise me that you'll call if things get to be too much, alright? I'm desperately trying to put in as many hours as I can right now so that I can take a few days off when you get here, but meetings can always be rescheduled Bella. If you want me to come and get you, I will. You take priority. I'm only a phone call away, okay?"

I found myself sinking into 'uncomfortable' territory once again, not understanding how to deal with the sentimentality that was evident in his voice. It was just so conflicting. It felt so very lovely in one respect, but far too foreign in so many others.

"It's really not necessary Edward, but thank you anyway. I… uh… should get some sleep, I need to be up early for work."

Hussy pouted. She'd been in a semi trance-like state listening to the sound of his voice. And I was cutting her off like a chocoholic whose supply had just been snatched away only to be replaced with celery sticks, she didn't look very happy with me.

"Sleep well Bella, I'll speak to you tomorrow."

"Uh… yeah, sure. Night!"

And with that, I hung up... much to Hussy's disappointment, but my relief.

(*)

I was in hell. Thursday evening hell to be precise.

Mrs. Newton was in such a state of hysterics that I'd been giving serious thought to calling 911 for the past thirty minutes. I didn't know what to do. She kept bursting into random fits of tears and pulling me in for hugs. And the only thing that I could think to do was pat her head and say 'there, there' as I inwardly cringed from the physical contact.

As if that wasn't bad enough, she had dragged every Newton's employee out to dinner in Port Angeles, stuffed a bright pink 'Good Luck!' sash over my head and had forced me to sit through two rather painful hours of gift giving, storytelling and best wish sentiments.

I'd been loaded down with a brown leather _Quicksilver_ satchel shoulder bag, a lightweight cream hooded parka, a set of navy home printed pyjama's with 'WATCH OUT COLUMBIA!' written in bold white lettering on the front of the top and a grouped collection of $250.00.

My face could no longer recognise the tingling sensation of my blush, for it had now become a permanent fixture.

Outwardly, I tried my very best to appear grateful and somewhat saddened. Inside I was joining my would-be murder victim in a fresh round of 'who can have the more severe panic attack'. I was winning.

It was unbelievably thoughtful of them. They were throwing me a goodbye party and wishing me well. They'd even said how proud of me they were. _Proud_. For the love of _God_, what was I supposed to say to that? I didn't understand it! The emotional _heights_ of the evening could rival Mrs. Newton's six inch stilettos.

I felt ill.

And everyone seemed to want to cuddle… repeatedly. They all wanted a piece of Bella before she shipped off to New York, probably never to return again. Every touch burned my skin and the effort to control my grimace with a cheerful smile was taking a great deal out of me.

But on the plus side, I was officially no longer a Newton's employee. It was the silver lining.

I honestly hadn't thought that the evening could become any more excruciating than it already was. I was wrong. Mike Newton eventually walked through the doors carting a cake the size of Texas – complete with sparklers – with the words 'you will be missed Bella!' scrawled messily onto it.

Mike was Mrs. Newton's son and he and I had… well, our history was awkward at best.

Mike and I had always been on relatively friendly terms at school, though we ran in different cliques. Well, I hadn't ever really had a clique, it was just Angela and I. We had been affectionately labelled the 'virgin twins' by some of the more intellectual beings in Mike's gang.

Because of my job at his family's store, Mike had always been pleasant towards me. His motley crew had repulsed me though. People always say things like 'kids are cruel' and having known Mike's friends these last few years I was inclined to agree. They were just awful. They had set their mean eyes on Angela and I three years ago and the taunting had never stopped.

But Mike had always been different… much kinder. He was definitely the All-American boy next door; his blonde hair, bright blue eyes, cheerful disposition and slightly rounded face had always given him an approachable demeanour.

So when Angela began 'talking boys' two years ago and subsequently began a rather casual fling with our yearbook photographer, Eric Yorkie, I'd felt that the 'normal' thing for me to do was befriend Mike. It seemed like a safe enough bet, since Mike had always been somewhat enthusiastic about spending time together. I think he had quite liked that I was different from his other female friends. I never minded being covered in sand at the beach; I never cared about getting my hair wet whilst swimming in the sea, I never moaned when we went to watch a horror film at the movies, instead of going to see the latest romantic comedy. In fact, I welcomed the gore. It was much easier to digest.

We kept our friendship under wraps for the most part, opting to just do things together instead of in a group. After all, I couldn't stand his friends and they couldn't stand me. I wouldn't say that we spent a great deal of time together, perhaps once a week or so after a shift at Newton's. It was a painless sort of friendship, it was uncomplicated and for the most part, enjoyable. I'd found that having another friend was rather nice.

But things between Mike and I became massively complicated the night of our senior prom. Angela had dragged me there, determined to have this one last High School experience. I went grudgingly, knowing that it was important to her.

Of course, unbeknownst to me there was some sort of unspoken rule of expectations when it came to prom night. I soon found out that senior prom was all about 'hooking up' in a manner that made my skin positively crawl. And Mike had been all for taking advantage of the rule.

In what I can only describe as a drunken stupor, he had propositioned me and with a little – a lot – more force than I cared to be dealt, laid down some suggestions.

Naturally, my initial response had been 'no'. Mike had not liked that word. Coincidentally, I had not appreciated his increasingly forceful acts of coercion.

I may have eventually introduced him to my right hook. I just panicked! In my defence though, I would never have done it had I known just how much blood could spurt from a person's nose. Disgusting. The nausea I felt from seeing it had been crippling.

I received a rather vicious verbal lashing from him after that. The term 'frigid bitch' had crept into his speech multiple times and I believe his parting words to me were, 'you're like the seven year itch that refuses to be scratched. Fuck this!'

Eloquent, no?

Angela explained to me later on that night that I'd bruised his ego. I couldn't understand how I could have bruised it to begin with since we were just friends.

The drama, I'm sad to say, didn't end there. Oh no, no.

The following day the rumour mill was churning with tales of Mike's 'virgin victory'. I spent a rather humiliating three weeks being openly spoken about… a lot of people stared at me in town. I eventually stopped venturing outside of my house unless I needed to run to the store or go to work. I only started going out again once the dust had finally settled.

I shall not go into the vivid details depicting how 'easy' I was… or _how_ I was. I will say that Mike circulated his disappointment with me. Apparently, it was _not _worth the wait.

I won't lie. It hurt. I felt as though I had been betrayed - I thought we were friends. I hated being the centre of attention, the source of small town gossip. Mike had always known that and that was exactly what he had made me.

Despite his blatant lying over the whole sordid story, I had, to some degree, felt that perhaps I had deserved it. I had overanalysed our friendship again and again, wondering that if at some point, I'd given him cause to think that we might actually be 'more'. I came up blank. I was me after all, I was uncomfortable smiling at people for fear of them wanting to start a conversation. The very idea of me giving Mike Newton certain signals was preposterous.

I eventually concluded that some of the blame had to lie with me though, because I had been stupid enough to put myself in a position where I befriended Mike. Had I continued merely being friendly, but not friends, it never would have happened.

He had never apologised for starting the rumours. I hadn't spoken to him since it happened, I was still as they say, licking my wounds. I wasn't sure if I could ever forgive him for what he had started and I didn't think I wanted to.

And now here he was.

_How wonderful_.

Mike spent a great deal of time trying to talk to me. For appearances sake, I smiled and offered the occasional nod, but I had no desire to speak to him.

Cake was cut, more stories were told and Mike even gifted me a copy of our yearbook, knowing that I had never taken one. It had never bothered me; the only positive things that had come from High School were good grades and Angela Weber. All other memories were expendable. More so after Mike had quite literally trashed my reputation within the town. I was the police chief's daughter and apparently that made me an 'example for all other youths to look up to, Isabella'. Well, according to Mrs. Stanley anyway, who had taken great pleasure in lecturing me one day at the bank. I'd never liked that woman. She was a nosy busybody and her daughter was trash.

No, I had no desire to remember the majority of my peers, not after some of the vile things I had heard.

Inner suddenly poked her head up from behind her sandbag barricade and glared daggers at Mike. She set poor little would-be to work on making water bombs straight away. It didn't take a genius to work out who her intended target was. I felt no desire to intervene.

By 10 pm, I felt I'd more than paid my fair share of collective memory time with my ex-employers and made my excuses to leave, thanking them for a thoughtful evening. My heart sunk to depths I was wholly unaware of when Mrs. Newton suggested Mike help me cart my things to my truck. At that moment in time, I would have rather taken my chances against Jack the Ripper.

Mrs. Newton enveloped me in a bone crushing hug before I could escape and she once again wished me all the best. The tension in the air was palpable as Mike and I walked outside to where I had parked my truck and I silently took my things from him without thanks. Rude as it may have been, I just couldn't form the words. Inner also forbade it.

I was about to open the driver's side door when his hand shot out to grab my arm. The contact made me want to scream. I reeled away from him.

"I never got you," he admitted quietly, a hint of accusation to his tone. "I _don't_ get you, Bella."

Inner began throwing a readymade water balloon up into the air before catching it again. She was all out glowering at Mike, her stance was threatening… protective… daring.

"How odd," I replied dryly. "And there everyone thought that you _had_ gotten me, Mike."

He rolled his eyes. "Don't be like that. It was just a joke."

I cocked my head to the side. "A joke? I thought jokes were meant to be funny. What you did was not funny. It was malicious, deceitful and hurtful! It was anything _but _funny!"

"Well," he stared at the ground, toeing the gravel beneath his feet. "You kinda deserved it."

I felt like growling.

"Why?" I asked, a little too sweetly. "Because I said no?"

"You lead me on Bella! For _two years_!"

I decided to take a leaf out of Edward's book and scoffed – loud and obnoxious. "_Lead you on_? Just how thick-headed are you, Mike? We were friends – nothing more. _Friends!_"

"You always wanted us to be alone!" He shot at me, some of his spittle hitting my face.

I violently swiped a sleeve across my skin. I'd be bleaching that area later. "Because I hate the people you hang out with, Mike. I cannot _stand_ your friends. You've always known that!"

"Oh c'mon Bel-"

"No," I said suddenly, cutting him off. "I _do not_ want to hear it Mike. Whatever fantasy you concocted in your own mind is your own doing. I played no part in it. What you did to me was _deplorable_. Can you not see that?"

"Don't be such a prude! It wasn't that bad…"

I felt my eyes widen into saucers.

_Wasn't that bad…?_

The whole town had been laughing at me, all eyes had been trained on me for weeks. Angela's father had even gotten wind of it and had questioned whether or not I was a 'healthy' friend for Ang to have. Mike Newton had nearly taken my first and only friend away from me.

"I think I'm done here," I yanked open my truck door and climbed in, slamming it behind me.

I jammed my key into the ignition and put my seatbelt on, managing to catch Mike's eyes as I did so. Bastard. That was the only word I thought of when I saw him – bastard.

But the one thing I did not want to do was give him the satisfaction of a reaction. He did not deserve one, and what's more, I felt as though I would break out into hives if I had to stay and look at him any longer. So I pulled away, not bothering to look back.

Inner released a catapult filled with water balloons and blew out a rather loud raspberry. I hoped that every single balloon hit him… hard.

So long Mike Newton.

I was officially two skeletons down.

(*)

A rather loud banging roused me from my slumber early on Friday morning and I couldn't deny the vicious mental telling off that I gave to the source of the racket. Apparently, my much deserved lie in was not to be had.

I made a grab for my cell and punched in several combinations to unlock the keypad before getting the correct one and noticed with complete horror that it was only seven in the morning.

Angela was not due until nine and Charlie should have set off for work at five. That meant that the source of the noise was an unknown and said unknown was about to get pummelled by my pillow!

I stumbled out of bed, snatched up my feather filled weapon and went in search, ready to commit murder. Death by pillow bashing, you couldn't deny that it was original.

The banging was incessant and annoying and unnecessary – I was up!

Gah!

I tripped several times as I made my way down the stairs, not such a good way to start the day. I soon found that the din was coming from the front door.

I may have growled.

I definitely stomped all the way towards it. Somebody's head was about to roll.

Twisting the handle, I wrenched the creaking wood open and yelled, "WHAT?"

In front of me stood a somewhat greasy looking teenager wearing a navy delivery uniform and baseball cap, his hand was still outstretched towards the door and I had a feeling that his 'bored' look was a common feature upon his face.

"Delivery for Swan," he announced disinterestedly.

I gaped at him.

_It was seven in the morning!_

Squinting my eyes, I found the sleep snatcher's nametag.

"_Vincent_?" I said, placing extra emphasis of the 'T'. "Do you know what time it is?"

He rolled his eyes in a petulant manner and glanced down at his _Star Wars_ wristwatch. "Five after seven. You Isabella Swan?"

I blinked at him.

"It was rhetorical!" I snapped, flailing my pillow clad hand about. "Do you realise that the noise you were just making at _seven in the morning_ was loud enough to wake the dead?"

It certainly woke me!

"Five after seven," he corrected. "And it's a special delivery, just following orders. Sign here." He thrust a clipboard and pen my way.

I wanted to hit him with it.

I made a mental note to start working on my early morning person _before_ I got myself arrested for battery.

Snatching the clipboard from him, I glanced down at the delivery form. The items were indeed intended for me, though I had not placed orders for anything. According to the sheet, there were four packages.

"Uh… who are these from?"

Vincent gave me a look that clearly stated how stupid he thought I was. "Couldn't tell ya. I'm just the carrier pigeon."

I glared at him. _Sarcastic sleep disturber_…

"Where did they come from?"

Vincent's jaw clenched. "I'm not allowed to open other people's mail-orders, kinda goes against company policy. So I really couldn't tell ya."

Oh it was too early for this!

"Well surely there must be a postal mark?"

Vincent suddenly hunched over, doing a very accurate impersonation of Fester from _The Addams Family_. His neck had completely disappeared from sight.

"Look lady," he began lazily. "I just get paid to deliver, you want them or not?"

Frowning, I stabbed the pen to the clipboard and scribbled my name before waving Vincent-The-Annoying inside.

And in he came, wheeling a _trolley_ full of boxes.

My God, what was all of this?

He tilted the trolley forward and each box slid to the floor easily with a light thump. They were arranged in a tier, much like a wedding cake, the largest on the bottom, the smallest at the top.

What on earth was in them?

"Well, if that'll be all," Vincent stole his clipboard back, gave me a cheeky salute and strode back out through the front door carting his trolley behind him.

Warily, I shut the door closed and turned back to glance at my 'packages'. Were they really for me? They couldn't be! Surely there had to have been a mistake?

I hesitantly walked over to them and peered at the postage label: _Isabella Swan_. It was my address, my name… but what _were they_?

Picking the first two smaller boxes up, I noticed how light they were and could not resist giving them a shake. I felt like a child at Christmas time. And much like a child, the two much larger boxes were calling out to be unwrapped first. I set the smaller boxes down and biting my lip, began picking at the brown tape on the medium sized box. I felt my stomach fluttering, this was quite… exciting.

After I had finally plucked a corner free, I ripped the tape from the cardboard and watched as the top two flaps of the box bounced open slightly. Peering inside, I saw bubble wrap, lots of bubble wrap. And beneath the bubble wrap, another box.

Gah!

Was this going to be like unwrapping a Matryoshka doll? Was there layer upon layer, smaller boxes inside each bigger one?

I sunk my fingers down into it, my knuckles were grazing against the cardboard sides but I finally managed to find the 'end' of the inside box. I pulled upwards, noting the bizarre suction that seemed to take place as the space beneath the inside and outer boxes increased and filled with air.

The inner box was wrapped in fancy white and gold tissue paper, the letter 'V' completely covering it. I peeled it back. The box was black and shiny – simple, plain. There was bold white lettering that stood as a stark contrast against the black however, it read 'Louis Vuitton'.

I knew that name. That name had been the cause of a rather heated debate between Jessica Stanley and Lauren Mallory last summer. Jessica had come into school gushing about her new 'Vuitton' handbag. Lauren had said it was a fake. And so the debate had gone on for a whole hour, I might add.

From that, I could only assume that this 'Vuitton' was a designer of some sort.

I opened the box slowly, only to be assaulted by more tissue paper. Man alive, I had a forest in here!

There was a small card taped to the delicate paper, which I gently eased off and opened to reveal some beautiful script-like writing.

_I thought that you should have the chance to travel to New York in style. _

_Looking forward to Saturday._

_~ Edward. _

Oh Lord, what had he done?

Batting away the tissue, my eyes fell upon quite possibly the coolest bag that I'd ever seen before. The scent of leather assaulted me and I found that I was suddenly too scared to touch it. _How much had this cost him?_

It was big, certainly no handbag. It was almost duffle shaped, in fact.

_The perfect size for carry on luggage_…

It was black with tan coloured handles, but the most striking and certainly eye-catching thing about the bag was the neon green coloured graffiti style writing that painted the leather. I could make out the words 'Louis Vuitton' and 'Paris', some of which were even written backwards.

I loved it.

There was no denying it, I absolutely loved it.

Intrigued, I set my new bag-in–a-box down and made fast work of removing the inner box from the largest box of all. Inside, it was all the same designed packaging, only bigger. There was no note this time and when I unwrapped the tissue paper, I found myself staring at a patented black wheeled suitcase, on top of it, an attached tote bag. They were shiny and looked lacquered, completely covered with monogrammed 'V's'.

I could practically feel my Paddington Bear suitcase scurry off to hide in my closet upstairs, shamefaced and too mortified to come and say hello to the new additions. I couldn't blame it; even I had the faint hue of a blush creep up my cheeks knowing that these bags were… not me. Brown leather and tattered, that was me. Shiny, expensive and stylish, not so much.

Swallowing, I didn't know if I dared open the other two packages. What more could he have possibly sent me?

With a shaking hand, I reached for the larger of the two boxes and ripped into it.

And oh, we had a comedian!

_Bella…_

_The ringtone volume on this is one stop short of deafening. _

_I found it greatly appealing. _

_Enjoy!_

_~ Edward_

An iPhone. The man had bought me a bloody iPhone! The cheek!

There was nothing wrong with my cell _or_ its ringtone volume. I wondered then if I could perhaps buy him a better sense of timing. Maybe they did gift cards for that. 'Know when to call' cards, I think there was a definite market there.

Lord give me strength!

I was dreading the final box.

I was right to.

The minute that I saw the trademark turquoise-blue box and white ribbon, I did not need to read the black imprinted words to know that this particular pleasantry was from Tiffany & Co.

Insufferable man!

My mom had one of these boxes. She cherished it. I had gotten into trouble once for touching it. I had liked fingering the white ribbon – I had found it pretty.

Wincing, I pulled the lid open and gasped.

Nestled between the white silken material, was a small, silver linked bracelet that was clasped together with what looked to be a heart shaped, diamond encrusted charm.

_Good God. _

And right next to the heart, was a silver clip on charm with three oval shaped tags, each one a little smaller than the last. Every tag had a scripted, sparkling word etched into it.

I cocked my head as my fingers danced over each worded oval.

_Follow_

_Your_

_Dreams_

_

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**Couldn't fit in the reunion, soon though. I want to return to the land of thighs.**

**Next chapter will be up hopefully by the beginning of next week. **


	9. Chapter 9

**Yes, I said early last week, I know. Please don't shout – I have a horrid cold and am feeling most sorry for myself. I actually deleted the original chapter and started again, I wasn't happy with it. Hence lateness. **

**This one is short and sweet, it's 'part one' of the two reunited chapters. I split it instead of giving myself a headache by doing it all in one. **

**The usual thank you's to everybody for being so darn lovely. Massive hug to pixiekat7 who combs through my Morse code and makes a chapter. She be magic!**

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"Faith is taking the first step, even when you don't see the whole staircase."

~ Martin Luther King, Jr.

_Chapter Nine_

As I settled myself into my first class seat, I took note of my surroundings and felt my body sag with immense relief. I didn't think that something as inconsequential as luggage would ever cause me such a potent reaction, yet it had. As I took stock of the people joining me on the flight to Newark this morning, I noticed that I was surrounded by snappy suits, expensive smelling perfume and fine leather luggage. I felt awful for thinking it, but I was entirely too grateful to Edward for sending me my new cases. Boarding with my old, over the shoulder canvas bag after having checked my ragged Paddington into the hold would have caused many _looks_, of that I was certain. Instead, I had received polite head nods and formal 'Good Mornings' and it was down to the Vuitton luggage, I was sure of it. _They_ accepted me as one of _them_, simply because of some monogrammed leather.

People were odd.

It wasn't even like I was dressed up like them. I mean for me, I felt rather dressy, but in comparison to some of the other women surrounding me, I was a far leap south of casual. But I _had_ made an effort to look nice. I'd put on my new black skinny jeans, a cream pleated shirt with lace trim cap sleeves and had popped my feet into some cream coloured crocheted flats. Thank God for Angela's constant presence during my shopping trip to Port Angeles yesterday. I may have nearly fainted at the time what with my now near-melted ATM card, but I couldn't deny that Ang's insistence that I buy half of the damn mall was actually a good move. I felt much better being here having spruced up my wardrobe a little. It's not that I meant to be conceited; I just preferred to be ignored rather than have my old scruffy self ridiculed by Mrs. I'm-Wearing-Pure-Cashmere-Darling in 4B.

First class was like nothing I'd ever known before on a flight. I had leg room. And the flight attendant had smiled at me. I was then offered a beverage – smile still in place. I requested apple juice, which I was given – smile still in place. Yes, first class was most definitely different.

I snapped on my belt and stretched out my legs, revelling in the space and most likely grinning like a fool. I'd even bet that Michael Flatley could do a number in here, honest to God! There was that. much. room!

I felt nervously giddy. I had to resist the urge to kick out my legs and beam at the other passengers whilst doing an impersonation of Joey from _Friends_ and screaming 'leg room baby!' I didn't think they would appreciate it, especially the cashmere lady in 4B.

The engines roared to life as I merrily sipped on my ice-cold juice and I found myself thinking back on my last day in Forks.

Saying goodbye to Angela had been unforeseeably hard. I'd known that I would miss my friend dearly, but when it came to actually saying our farewells, I'd found that I was really quite choked up. I think Angela had been about ready to call for help, she had never seen me so emotional before. But I had pulled myself together eventually. Ang was going off to college to attain her dream too and whilst our separation was not ideal, we both had these incredible opportunities in our lives that begged to be fulfilled - and boy were we going to.

Ever since I had met Angela there had been only one thing she'd ever wanted to do. Ang was obsessed with all manner of crime scene shows. Her DVD collection consisted of nothing but TV boxed set after boxed set, all crime scene-drama related. She wanted to be a forensic analyst. Seattle University had offered her a place to go and study Biochemistry, Angela would be in her absolute element there.

We had both laughed when, during our lunch stop yesterday afternoon, we each pulled out goodbye gifts for the other. I'd managed to get hold of a hardback copy of the _Lehniger Principles of Biochemistry & eBook _that Ang had been yapping on about for months. It was costly to buy new, but after weeks of tedious searching I had been able to source a copy online for a fraction of the original price. I had no doubt that Angela would have the entire book memorised within a week.

In return, my best friend had given me a beautifully patterned kimono style robe. I had admired it in the dreaded 'come buy a wedgy' lingerie store last Wednesday before I went to Seattle, but had dismissed purchasing it – it was expensive and not a necessity. It was stunning; made entirely out of black silk with bursts of green and pink dragonfly print on it and fell to just below my backside. Ang had made a rather crude comment about wearing it with some 'killer heels and nothing else, eh Bells?' whilst wagging her eyebrows. I had thrown some fries at her after that.

I hadn't been able to tell her the truth about my situation. I was fairly certain that Angela wouldn't judge me for what I had done but, I didn't want to take the risk. I also didn't want to make her worry. I told myself that once I was settled in New York, I would tell her the whole sordid story. It would also give her a chance to get used to her new surroundings before I sprung my _news_ on her.

Instead, I'd told Ang that I was funding myself. What with all of the hours I had put in at Newton's the past couple of years, it wasn't too hard a lie to spin since Angela knew that I had worked myself silly to save for college. I mentioned getting a job to cover everything else and when she asked about what I would do next year once I had obliterated my savings, I'd fibbed a little more by telling her that I could apply for financial aid again. As for residence issues, I'd bent the truth entirely. As of right now, Angela Weber believed that Columbia University had a list of _trusted_ older adults who were tied to the institution in some way, who were willing to offer accommodations to a very select few individuals in need of a little… help. I made it sound like a charitable cause the university promoted to those of a less affluent background. My ability to make this tripe up was really rather impressive. I gave myself a gold star for being able to fabricate bullshit so easily whilst under pressure. But Angela was happy. As far as she knew, her best friend had struck gold whilst talking to one of her future professors last week and they had since gone out of their way to find emergency accommodation for me – the charity case in question.

Naturally, Angela didn't think twice about believing me. She trusted that every word I'd told her was the truth. I was an awful friend.

Leaving 'home' had been much easier. I hadn't seen Charlie; I think he'd purposefully taken on another shift at work so that he could avoid my leaving. His normal schedule had never included a Friday nightshift. I'd left my new address and a contact number for him on the kitchen table and stuffed $50.00 of my Newton's gift money into his pizza fund jar. It should keep him going for a week.

Renee had called the house a few times after out little disagreement. She had never been one for not being allowed the final word. I'd let the machine pick up her messages. Most of them were all centred around her berating my behaviour and Charlie's inability to raise me 'correctly'. Not that the woman had any idea about raising a child herself. Hypocrisy at its finest, huh?

I didn't feel bitter towards them, I felt indifferent. It was life as I had always known it. But my move emboldened me a little… made me see that whilst I was fairly apathetic towards my parents, I no longer had to _stand_ them. I was hurtling through the sky on my leap of faith and I didn't have to look back at what I had left behind, because realistically there was very little to miss or wave goodbye to. Wasting the energy on glancing behind me was just that – a waste. Instead, I was putting all of my efforts into looking forward now. Forward meant my college dream, a whole unknown New York to explore and an Edward Cullen to get to know. Not too shabby for a little fish from a small pond.

The plane had taken off and we were soaring further towards a beautiful golden sunrise. I couldn't help but rest my head back against my seat, just watching as the bright, early morning sunrays danced their way in through the cabin windows and landed on my skin, heating it and making me glow.

I closed my eyes and smiled.

Not too shabby at all.

(*)

I was both happy and relieved when the cabin doors finally opened at 5:39 pm local time. The man seated in front of me had a cat, I was sure of it. About ten minutes after we were airborne, he stood to remove his jacket and snapped it about to straighten it out before stowing it away in the overhead locker. I had sneezed consistently throughout the entire flight after that. I thought I'd done well containing my sneezes but the other passengers had been less than impressed. When a breakfast of eggs wellington and a side of fruit was placed in front of me, I'd eaten it all without managing to sneeze any of it back out. Another gold star for Bella!

I stood to retrieve my luggage from above, placing my graffiti bag onto the seat first, before collecting my wheeled case and setting it down to adjust the handle. I was in no rush to be the first to clamber out, unlike many of the other passengers. No, I was content to take my time. I was also hoping that the cat owner got out in front of me, I needed a little distance between him and I after five hours of nonstop sneezing. Not even my antihistamines had kicked in well enough to help.

People were busy rushing passed me. Instead of following them, I leisurely removed my iPod from my jeans pocket and placed it into my little tote bag. I spotted my cell and popped it into the same pocket, telling myself that I would switch it on as soon as I was inside. My new iPhone was staring up at me from the bottom of the bag. I hadn't been using it yet. It was confusing. Hopefully Edward could teach me the basics at some point.

"Everything okay, Bella?"

I looked up to find Gaynor, the flight attendant, smiling warmly at me. Gaynor had been absolutely lovely throughout the entire flight; she'd fussed a little over my sneezing and plied me with free apple juice and Pringles. Naturally, I thought she was fabulous.

I beamed back. "Much better now."

She rolled her eyes playfully in the cat owner's direction. "I can imagine. I have to run for another flight, but you have a wonderful time in New York, alright?"

"Thanks Gaynor, have a good flight."

With one final smile, she tittered off in her tight skirt and sky high heels. I should really have asked her how she walks in those things, Ang made me buy a pair. They were frightening.

When the first class cabin was empty, I finally made my move.

I swerved my case through the carpeted corridors and scowled at every line barricade I came up against. You know the ones, they're all made out of stretchy material and the airport staff only ever put them up to annoy you. As I turned a corner, I found myself facing a couple of men in suited uniforms, both had those clear, spiral shaped wire earpieces in place and they seemed to be stopping people at random.

Odd.

I proceeded forwards, swerving and weaving through the crowd when one of the men suddenly put his hand up to me in a 'stop right there' gesture. I complied, briefly wondering if I was in trouble. Had the cat man or her from 4B reported my sneezing as 'suspicious' by way of payback for interupting their breakfast?

"Identification?" He barked.

Oh, somebody had clambered out of the wrong side of bed this morning. No please?

"Is something wrong?" I quizzed. I quickly dug through my tote bag for my ID and handed it over to the Grinch. I don't think I'd ever seen a more miserable looking person before in my life - and I knew my father.

"Random checks," he grunted.

Random checks? Was I supposed to have morphed into a terrorist whilst on the plane? Jeez...

I had a cornucopia of identification with me, having not trusted to send any of it in my boxes. I was almost daring him with my eyes to ask me if I had anything else. I could probably give him everything but my dental records. He looked entirely too serious, I think he must have looked from my picture to my face six times before he stiffly handed my ID back to me. Giving me a curt nod, he indicated that I was free to go.

Yikes, maybe it hurt him to smile.

I walked passed him and pulled my cell out of my pocket to switch it on. There was a message from Edward already waiting for me.

**Sender:** Edward

**Date:** 28 August 5:25PM

_The arrival's lounge is terribly boring – hurry up ;)_

_~E_

Oh Lord, he was here.

I mean, I knew he would be here, but… he was _here_!

I felt an eclectic blend of emotions swarm within me. I was once again nervously giddy; there was a mild pull of fear knowing that there was this vast unknown before me, I was excited, but strangest of all, I found myself yearning for something. And I wasn't quite sure what.

I hastily typed up a quick reply.

**To:** Edward

**Date:** 28 August 5:46PM

_I just got randomly stopped by security - I think the dwarves may _

_be missing Grumpy! They certainly don't get paid_

_to smile here ~B_

I eventually rounded a corridor and the automatic doors leading through to the lounge were directly in front of me. I began chewing on my lip. He was only a few feet away from me; he was just through those doors. My future was a matter of steps away.

My cell dinged.

My heartbeat sped up.

**Sender:** Edward

**Date:** 28 August 5:48PM

_They'll certainly be missing 'Impatient' if I_

_don't see you walk through those doors soon! _

_~E_

I think I laughed out loud.

I hit reply.

**To:** Edward

**Date:** 28 August 5:49PM

_Dopey, where did you learn such a big word? ;)_

_~B_

The doors to the arrivals lounge opened as a crowd from the plane I had just departed walked on through to meet whoever was waiting for them on the other side. I felt myself smiling at that. I had somebody waiting for me too. The thought was heartening.

My phone chimed again.

**Sender:** Edward

**Date:** 28 August 5:50PM

_I just saw a flash of green. _

_I do believe I've just stepped into Happy's shoes. _

_~E_

Chuckling to myself and shaking my head, I took a deep breath and made those final few steps forward. _Hello future!_

The doors slid open, revealing a rather large gathering of people before me. Many of them were embracing; some grinning whilst animatedly chattering away, a few men politely greeted each other with firm handshakes and claps on the back. There was an older couple who were clearly gushing over how much a little girl had grown. I quite liked seeing that. I hoped they would spoil the small thing rotten. I watched as the Grandpa bent down slowly and wrapped the young girl in his arms, and from my position, I didn't miss the secret movement he made whilst the Grandma kept the girl's mother occupied – he put a great big bag of candy into her jacket pocket.

And whilst all of this was somewhat entertaining to watch, it made my task of finding Edward incredibly difficult. There were just so many people – everywhere.

I continued to scan the crowd when I felt my cell vibrate.

**Sender:** Edward

**Date:** 28 August 5:53PM

_Why Miss Swan, what a beautiful sight you are._

_~E_

I felt my face flush cherry red knowing that he could see me… was watching me.

My cell dimed again.

_For the love of…_

**Sender:** Edward

**Date:** 28 August 5:54PM

_Ah, and now the picture is complete._

_~E_

Gah!

I scowled at the screen. Cocky, insufferable, God-like man!

Another ping.

**Sender:** Edward

**Date:** 28 August 5:55PM

_That scowl does not become you, Isabella. _

_This is fun! You're entirely too adorable._

_I'm glad I get to keep you. _

_~E_

I may have growled.

Inner bounded to my rescue, all camo geared up and hard hat in place. She had an old fashioned school chalkboard behind her and a pointer clutched in her hands.

_You have two options Swan._ She barked, using her best drill sergeant voice. She thwacked the pointer at the board. _Stand there looking like a moron, or play him at his own game._

Play him at his own… _Shut up Inner!_

Lord almighty! I was surrounded by crazies.

I went back to searching the crowd, knowing that if I was meticulous enough, I would eventually be able to locate Edward, the child.

It was then that I noticed quite a few of the women in the gathered crowd were all looking in the same direction. Something was drawing their attention. Ever curious, I followed the line with my eyes, from one woman to the next, and the next, and the next, _and the next_ and oh my…

I felt my mouth go dry.

There he was.

Leaning casually against a pillar with one leg crossed over the other, looking like the cat that got the damn cream I might add, was Edward. His crisp white shirt was open at the collar where a pair a sunglasses had been left to hang; his sleeves had been rolled up. His black pants were perfectly fitted and sat deliciously just so upon his hips. His hair was exactly as I remembered it, messily wild in that 'it would take any other man hours of styling to get it like that' kind of way. He looked bright eyed and dare I say it again, illegal.

He took my breath away. He was just so devastatingly handsome. It really, really wasn't fair. And he was looking right at me - gargantuan grin in place.

He was also holding a beautiful bouquet of flowers, all wrapped up in a bright orange plastic wrapping. Were they meant for me? No one had ever given me flowers before.

My phone sounded off again and I broke eye contact with the God to read the message, wondering if Angela was checking up on me like she said she would.

**Sender:** Edward

**Date:** 28 August 5:59PM

_Gotcha ;)_

Oh!

I looked back up and raised my eyebrows in a '_seriously?_' sort of manner. Thirty-nine my ass!

There were still a lot of women looking at him. Did he even realise or was he just used to it? I had to wonder. Surely nobody could be that unaware of drawing such attention to themselves? There was one woman in particular who looked dangerously close to cocking her leg and panting with wild, uncensored abandon. Mildly disturbing, I had to admit.

Edward pushed off from the pillar and slowly began walking towards me; every pair of eyes followed him. He didn't seem to notice; instead he kept his eyes trained solely on me. _Me_, plain little Bella Swan from Forks-Nowhere. It was madness.

The way he was _looking_ at me was like something out of a film, '_Blind Man Sees for the First Time_'.

I willed my body to move but it wouldn't listen to me. It was hell bent on remaining rooted to the ground as Mr. Beauty Personified prowled ever closer. I almost felt like one of the female bystanders not a few feet away, watching with disbelieving eyes as this surreal being came closer… and closer… and closer towards me.

If somebody was to suddenly light me on fire, I'm not entirely sure I would pay them that much attention. I'd been caught up in his spellbinding web, utterly and completely this time. My only clear thought was _what an incredible specimen he is_.

I didn't know what it was about Edward, but he just seemed to ignite the strangest feelings within me. He was a picture to behold, that was a given. Even _I_ could admit to that. But it went deeper than his heart-stopping good looks. It was more than simple surface attraction. I couldn't put a name to the feeling, but there was just something about Edward, as a man - as a whole, that could stop a person dead in their tracks.

See exhibit A – Bella Swan, motor control… nil.

Edward finally reached me.

_Breathe Bella! Breathe!_

He leaned down towards me, all the way down.

"Miss Swan." He whispered.

I shuddered. And not in a bad way.

His nose ran from the corner of my jaw and all the way up to my ear, inhaling as it moved. His lips chastely found purchase against the delicate flesh directly beneath it. I heard more than felt the kiss. I think I whimpered.

"I'm very happy that you're finally here. It's been a long few days."

Oh Lord, he smelled divine. There was a definite whiff of expensive cologne, but the slight butter mint scent was still there too. It was heady.

Edward's hand clasped over mine, manipulating my small fingers into releasing my bag into his hold. He drew back and gazed deeply into my eyes as he set the bag onto the ground. The flowers soon followed, being placed on top of the case.

Edward's long fingers gently gripped my wrist, toying with the bracelet that he'd sent me. His free hand moved to the front pocket of his shirt and I thought I saw a faint flash of silver as he withdrew it.

"A small token to wish you all of the happiness you so rightly deserve, Bella. Welcome home."

Edward's fingers were fiddling with my bracelet. Frowning, I peered down to find a new addition had been added to the chain link directly next to my first and only charm. I lifted my wrist to get a closer look.

Hanging there next to my cherished ovals was a tiny silver house and key charm. The miniature home was sweetly detailed with a door and windows, and had even had a tiled roof design etched into the metal. The key was engraved with four black letters… T & Co.

I didn't have time to scold Edward for the expense, nor thank him for the thoughtful sentiment, for his hands were clasping my face and his lips were meeting my own. And it was then, right there in that precise moment of joining, that I realised what that strange yearning earlier on had been for.

I wanted a hug.

Yes, you heard me! I, Isabella Marie Swan, _desperately_ wanted a hug. Four days worth of packing up and saying goodbye to my sad little life, of confrontations with my non-committal parents, of past grievances surfacing and of saying a sorrow filled farewell to my only friend and source of comfort in this world and even I, the emotional pariah, needed that one small comfort a hug could sometimes offer.

Allowing this sudden need to fuel my braveness, I tentatively stood on my tiptoes and wrapped my arms tightly around Edward's neck, breaking the kiss and burying my face into his mouth-wateringly scented throat.

I think I might have startled him, as he went very still. I couldn't blame him; I'd shied away from him so much physically the last time we'd met and I would likely shy away again after this was over. And perhaps I wasn't allowed to do this, but I didn't care. The whoring could come later; he could call all of the shots he wanted to _later_. _I _didn't care. Right now – I needed this. It had been nearly twelve years since I'd last asked for this sort of contact and I wasn't bloody well letting go until _I_ felt ready too.

Edward seemed to snap to after a moment and completely enveloped me. One hand went to my waist and the other straight into my hair, pulling me further into him. I felt myself being lifted and tightened my hold, savouring the feel. My legs were left dangling, but once again, I found I didn't care. If anything, I held on even more, likely choking the poor man, but simply delighting in his warmth.

Edward's fingers stroked affectionately through my chocolate tresses and I felt his face being buried into my loose curls. His breath was hot and welcome against my ear and I found my nerves relaxing, knowing that Edward seemingly had no problem with my out of sort's behaviour. In fact, he seemed to embrace it wholeheartedly.

"Oh Bella," he murmured sadly into my ear. "What have they done to you?"

I simply shook my head. I didn't need, nor want his pity… his sympathy. Things were how they were. All I wanted was my hug.

I think he understood.

To all others, we must have looked like any other couple holding each, reunited after having been separated. But I think Edward knew. I think that despite lacking knowledge of past facts, Edward Cullen had drawn his own conclusions from the little I had fed him so far. I think Edward Cullen had probably drawn right. I think Edward Cullen knew it for what it was and it was certainly no simple, average hug. Because with this hug came a new dawning, a realisation of sorts.

I had found somewhere to fit, and fit perfectly I did in this man's arms.

The feeling was certainly bittersweet.

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**Update – don't want to say a day because I can't stick to anything when I do, but the next chapter's nearly finished :)**


	10. Chapter 10

**Stephanie Meyer owns Twilight, no copyright infringement intended. **

**Apologies for the wait – illness meant that the chapter took a little longer than usual to write and then Kat had a crazy-ass week, poor love. It's that highly irritating 'RL gets in the way' scenario, and sadly sometimes it's unavoidable. Don't we all hate it?**

**Massive thanks to everybody for everything - you're all ruddy fabulous. The feedback was just lovely and I can't thank those of you who have rec'd this enough. Cake all round!**

**Huge squashy squishes to pixiekat7 for the proof-reading! I'm ignoring certain parts of your email lady because I happen to think that you're wonderful, so there! *sticks out tongue* **

**I'm now on Facebook, the direct link to my page is on my profile or you can find me under 'Positively Fourth Street'. Feel free to come and say hello, I'll be posting up teasers/pictures every week. **

**Carolinee81 very kindly asked if she could make a banner for AMTDR, I will be posting the link up onto my profile shortly. Huge thanks C, I love it :)**

**This one isn't plot development centred at all; it's merely the second half of the 'Bella moves to New York' day, so it's a descriptive introduction to her new surroundings more than anything. I'll really start speeding things along next chapter. **

**Right, anyone for a side of thighs? NOM NOM NOM!**

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"Making the beginning is one third of the work."

Irish Proverb

_Chapter Ten_

The flowers were indeed intended for me. My heart gave a small, strange sort of flutter when Edward handed them over to me with a wink. I blushed scarlet, naturally.

They were beautiful. I wasn't exactly what you would call flower savvy, so except for the easily identifiable cream and light orange coloured roses, I was at a complete loss. Edward explained to me that the burnt orange coloured flowers were calla lilies and he could rattle off each individually named green leaf within the bouquet. There were also bursts of red berries amongst the bunch. I loved them. They were stunning and feminine without being bubblegum pink. Somehow, he'd even managed to get the flowers right. And as first bunches go, I thought they were pretty damn perfect.

Edward had insisted on taking my suitcases from me to carry after I had – finally – let him go. He hadn't once tried to push me away or break our contact; instead he'd seemed quite content to just let me run the show. If I was being honest, I think he'd enjoyed it. Actually, I think I heard him purr at one point…

I was a little embarrassed about my behaviour, but after seeing the look on Edward's face, I couldn't bring myself to regret nearly squeezing the life out of the poor man. He looked so happy, carefree even. I had no idea why, but far be it for me to squash it whatever the cause had been.

It was well past six o'clock by the time we emerged from the airport, but the early evening light was still bright and the lingering warmth of the day was most welcome. It had clearly been a lovely sunny day in New York, or should I say New Jersey. I could certainly get used to the weather here. New York would have seasons, not just rain. I smiled goofily at that thought.

The walk towards the short term parking garage directly in front of the terminal building was quick; Edward seemed to know exactly where he was going. I followed without question, feeling a little lost puppy-like in this large, unknown place. It was a feeling I would have to get used to; I certainly wasn't in Kansas anymore. I had a rather large pond to explore and familiarise myself with. I felt like doing a little dance of excitement. There was so much to see!

I paid close attention to Edward, the way he moved fascinated me. He was so… so… certain of himself. He held himself tall and perfectly straight, though there was a definite relaxed confidence to him. He moved like a person who was very comfortable within their own skin. I wished I could be like that. I'm sure my walk could rival that of an escapee mental patient whose drugs had finally fled their system. I was always a little jittery in my movements, likely due to face planting the ground a few too many times. I mean, you just never know when the ground might decide to spring right up on you – you have to be vigilant! The nervous twitch-walk was an unfortunate side effect.

We came up behind a long line of cars and turned left; I could see Edward glancing at me frequently from the corner of my eye. I remained quiet though and focussed on my steps. Tripping in a parking lot would probably result in getting run over by a monster truck or something – not very appealing.

Edward eventually slowed his pace as we approached a fantastically sporty little number that had no cars parked on either side of it. There was a man standing right next to the vehicle wearing a fluorescent yellow vest.

"Just as you left her, Mr. Cullen!" He announced proudly, a silly grin plastered across his face.

I frowned, not understanding.

Edward nodded in response and set my bags down at the rear of the car, before delving a hand into his pants pocket and handing the man something. Closer inspection revealed a $50.00 bill had been passed between them. I think my jaw hit the concrete floor.

"Thank you Tim. I was a little longer than I expected, I only paid up to an hour."

'Tim' held his hands up in an 'I've got it covered' sort of manner as he smirked cockily at Edward. "Leave it to me Mr. C."

Edward manually unlocked the trunk of the car and began stowing my two suitcases inside. I was somewhat shocked by what had just transpired, my gaze falling from Tim's retreating form to Edward's hunched over back.

$50.00 – just like that. It took me the best part of a day to earn that kind of money at Newton's.

When Edward closed the trunk, I was still gaping.

"Bella?"

The noise I made couldn't be described as a word; I don't even think there were any proper syllables present. It sounded more like I was being choked.

Edward rushed to me.

"Bella? Are you alright?"

I made another noise. This one was more half-hum half-laugh. I was all about the alternative noises today, quite clearly.

Edward steered me towards the side of his car so that I was leaning lightly against it and took my face in his hands. "Bella, what's wrong sweetheart?"

I took a deep breath.

"You… just gave… him…" I waved my arm outwards, flitting my fingers in Tim's general direction.

Edward's eyebrows mashed together. "Who… Tim?"

I blinked at him, nodding slowly.

"What about him?" Edward asked, his tone balancing precariously between worry for my sudden step onto the crazy train and genuine confusion.

And then his eyes widened and he smiled with relief. "Oh, the money?"

Again, cue slow head nod from Swan.

_Oh the money?_ Yes the money! The $50.00 you just _casually_ threw away…

Edward grinned sheepishly. "I'm very protective of my car. It's a bit of a magnet for trouble, every time I leave it in a lot like this somebody crashes into it leaving me with the rather expensive repair bills. It's cheaper in the long run to just pay one of the attendants to watch it."

"But…but…"

_Speech is really coming on there, hey Swan?_

"But what, Bella? Are you alright?" Edward began stroking my cheek with one hand whilst simultaneously brushing his fingers through my hair with the other.

"But $50.00?" I eventually managed, the shock evidently lacing my tone.

"Now, yes. I gave him half before and the other half now."

_$100.00!_ My mind _screamed_.

It would have taken me at least two days to earn that kind of money! This was madness!

"A hundred dollars?" I choked out. "For watching your car?"

Edward smiled at me. "Bella, this is a 1956 Jaguar Roadster. I completely restored it myself. It's also my third one, the last two were stolen. I've lost count of the number of times I had repair work done to them because of other people's carelessness. I know it must seem like I'm throwing away money, but the reality is it's much less hassle to just pay somebody to keep an eye out."

Alright, when put that way, I guess I could understand. But it just seemed like so much money! I knew how hard I had to work in the past to earn that kind of cash, and Tim in his crappy yellow vest just waltzes on in and scoops up the prize for an hour of sitting on his ass watching some rich guy's car? _So_ _unfair_!

I shook my head, bewildered.

"It bothers you?" Edward murmured, his eyes less sparkly than they had been not a moment before.

And now I felt bad.

"No… yes…" Ugh! I avoided his eyes and began chewing on my lip. I had no right to judge Edward for this. Christ, I had no right to judge anybody for anything.

"Hey, hey, hey." His cool fingers gripped my chin lightly and brought my face up to meet his understanding eyes. "Bella, don't ever be afraid to be honest - to be yourself sweetheart. I'm really not some rich dick flashing his cash, I know it might seem that way, but I promise you I'm not. It just took me so long to restore each car. I don't have much free time and to have some ass in a Range Rover ruin something that's taken me so long to get right, well…"

"No, I get it. It's just… so much money."

He gave me a sad, tight lipped smile that positively screamed 'not in my world it isn't!' but he didn't comment any further. Instead, Edward bent down towards me, still cupping my cheeks, and placed a soft, tender kiss to my lips. It made me feel all tingly inside and my flesh thrummed anew when the sound of our lightly smacking lips reverberated in my ears. I think I had managed pretty well so far with the physical nearness of Edward, it was almost as if my body, the traitor, was saying, 'oh well… alright then. A hug won't kill you and the kissing actually feels pretty damn good.'

"How about I take you home?" Edward whispered against my lips.

_Home_. That sounded nice. I wondered if I would ever see Edward's home as my home. Would it be a place of security or merely a place where I would reside contractually for four years?

I smiled and nodded as Edward gave me one final peck before releasing me. He unlocked the passenger side door and like an absolute gentleman, opened it for me to climb in.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't excited. I'd never seen a car like this one before, certainly not back in Forks. It was classically elegant yet sportily cool. Black in colour and highly polished, the wheels were that old fashioned style of black with cream rings around the outside of them and every silver accent was glinting like a Christmas bauble. The seats were a caramel brown shade and all leather and I was rather amused to find that the side view mirrors were not in their usual place next to the windows, but far off down near the front of the car.

Edward gently closed my door behind me and I bounced up and down like a child, noting how close to the ground I felt. There was no roof and I immediately dismissed the idea of tying my hair up. I wanted to feel the wind coursing through it. Oh yes I did! I'd never been in a convertible before.

Edward slid into his seat with ease, I was impressed. He was relatively tall and yet he made getting into such a tiny, low riding sports car look effortless. I envied him his grace.

Of course, through my excitement I'd forgotten one very important thing about Mr. Cullen.

Said important thing decided to showcase as he turned on the ignition, pushed the clutch and shifted into reverse. His thighs flexed in a way that made my heart falter and I watched as the material binding them _tightened_.

I gulped.

Shame Bella, shame on you!

_To hell with the shame!_ Hussy screamed. _Thigh jackpot! Cha-Ching!_

I inadvertently licked my lips as Edward shifted into first, I felt as though I was in a trance. They looked so powerful, so strong and masculine. Some dark, deprived recess of my mind conjured up a very naughty thought – what would they feel like bare and flexing beneath my fingertips?

I tried to shove the thought away, shocked by the wickedness of it.

_Where was all of this suddenly coming from? This wasn't me! Back to rational if you please – and be quick about it!_

When we came to the exit, the torture worsened. Edward teased the clutch and gas pedals repeatedly as he stopped to wait for the gate to rise. There was much tensing and relaxing.

Thigh Alert had officially been dropkicked into _hotter than the sun_ level. I might have been gaping, perhaps a little drool escaped, I couldn't find it within myself to care very much. The only thing my mind could do was chant 'thighs!' over and over again, much like a zombie who was calling out for its dinner of mutilated limbs.

What was _wrong_ with me? I needed to make an appointment with a doctor as soon as possible. I was beginning to wonder if perhaps I had a hormone imbalance or something. Maybe this was my body's way of telling me that it was having to play catch-up, maybe I was being punished for being _too_ _good_ as a teenager and abstaining from, well… everything.

The hot flush that had swept through my insides began to cool as Edward made a complicated set of turns out of the airport. My attention was drawn away from the heavens; I mean thighs, as he began to fiddle with the car's stereo.

He pulled his fingers back to place them onto the steering wheel and threw me a cheeky grin. I wanted to question it, but before I had even opened my mouth to ask, a familiar deep sounding guitar began to pluck away within the confines of the car. Vague hints of another guitar teased its way into the first set of chords and before I could throw myself from the moving vehicle out of complete embarrassment…

_I'm driving in my car_

_I turn on the radio_

_I'm pulling you close_

_You just say no_

_You say you don't like it_

_But girl I know you're a liar_

'_Cause when we kiss_

_Ooohhh_

_Fire!_

Oh… _God_…

I think my face had flushed and paled all at the same time.

Why this song? Why not any other, why did it have to be _this_ song? It was the one song that I could admit was circumstantially fitting for _right_ _now_.

_Late at night_

_I'm taking you home_

_I say I wanna stay_

_You say you wanna be alone_

_You say you don't love me_

_Girl you can't hide your desire_

'_Cause when we kiss_

_Ooohhh_

_Fire!_

I wanted my seat to swallow me up whole. I was certainly doing my damndest to try and crawl inside of the biscuit coloured leather and hide. I think I'd sunken down three feet, quite an impressive feat given how small the car was.

I glanced out of the corner of my eye. Edward was smirking whilst putting on his sunglasses, there was a definite gaiety to his movements.

I narrowed my eyes. Had he put this on, _on purpose?_

_You had a hold on me right from the start_

_A grip so tight I couldn't tear it apart_

_My nerves all jumping, acting like a fool_

_Well your kisses they burn_

_But your heart stays cool_

Inner, take a memo!

_Dear Bruce… I used to like you._

Humph!

(*)

I was already in love with the city. Like a panting dog leaning out of a car window on a hot summer's day, I could not contain my elation. The scenery surrounding us was so very vast and muddled. The occasional townhouse would line a sidewalk right next to an old fashioned grocery store and next to that a huge, towering apartment complex. New York was a bit of a frenzied mishmash, I thought it was all weirdly wonderful.

Edward had informed me that we were on West Street and very close to 'home'. I vaguely registered his words, too caught up gazing passed him at the Hudson River off to our left. Whilst all along our right side was a sprawling concrete jungle, the left side was a long carpet of green grass, leafy trees and blue water. Edward had mentioned he was close to the river at some point, but I hadn't thought much on it at the time. Now… now I could certainly appreciate the little specs of colour on a canvas of metal, glass and grey concrete. It was a definite jewel.

As we approached a tall, newly built building that directly overlooked the river, Edward pointed up at the street that ran along just before it.

"That's Bethune Street, do you see the townhouses? That's where we are." There was a distinct twinkle in his eyes when he said the 'we' part. I took that as an indication of Edward's eagerness to show off his home.

I caught a brief glimpse of the houses in question and my eyes bugged. I hadn't imagined Edward in a big townhouse; I had pictured him in some swanky city loft surrounded by clinical white and sparse furniture. Apparently I couldn't have been more wrong about the property. I had to wonder then about the inside. Would my preconceptions be wrong again or had I at least correctly guessed at the interior?

We turned right at the next corner where Edward slowed down to make a sharp right turn and I looked up to find us on West 12th Street.

"If you continue up and turn right onto Washington Street, you can loop back round onto Bethune. It's like a grid - a bit big and scary initially but easy once it's become familiar. Most of the city's like that. If you ever get lost, try walking as if you're in a square and you should be able to right yourself." Edward pulled off his sunglasses, looped them over his collar again and came to a complete stop. We seemed to be on the opposite side of that tall newly built building.

There was an entrance and an exit carved into the side of the building for vehicle access, both of which had gates in front of them, much like what you would find at a parking lot. Edward leaned out of the car and punched a set of buttons into a waiting security panel and I watched as one of the gates slowly began to rise.

"This building and the townhouses were designed and built as a new unit together by the same architect. Thankfully, because of that, we all get to use the amenities." Edward explained as he drove us through into what appeared to be an underground parking garage, directly beneath the new building.

A slight man wearing a charcoal coloured suit jacket quickly appeared from a small building inside and signalled to Edward.

"Mr. Cullen," he nodded politely.

"I'll park her myself Rod, show Bella the bays and where to go."

The man smiled at me kindly. "Of course sir. Miss Swan, delighted to meet you."

"Oh," I said intelligently, caught off guard. "Um… you too."

Who was he and how did he know my name?

"Bella this is Rod, he's the daytime valet and security guard down here. Patrick works the nightshift, I suspect you'll meet him another day. Everyone who uses this facility is given their own individual code to get in and out. I believe we should have yours cleared within the next day or two, is that right, Rod?" Edward queried conversationally. He seemed to be on good terms with the man.

Valet?

Individual security codes?

I get one?

Lord, would I ever get used to this? It was overwhelming. Lifestyles of the rich and the famous-in his-own-world, huh?

"It takes a little while to get the clearance pushed through, Miss Swan. There are a lot of expensive cars down here and we need to monitor exactly who is coming and going." He threw a grin Edward's way. "Pat and I will have it over to you as soon as we can."

Oh, what a pleasant man he sounded, but I didn't want him going to any extra lengths on my behalf. It's not like I _needed_ the pass to get in and out of here.

"Please don't go to any trouble, Rod." I smiled at him. "It was lovely to meet you."

He inclined his head again and stepped back from the car as Edward began moving us further down into the garage. Rod had been right; there was money in here – a lot of it. It was a carjacker's dreams come true.

Edward eventually pulled into a free space and switched off the ignition. There were no cars in either of the spaces next to us.

"This is your spot?"

He jumped out and quickly walked around to my side, opening my door and offering me a hand out. "One of them. I have four. The Mercedes is mine as well." Edward indicated to the sleek, black, panther-like car parked to the left of the Jaguar, a space between them.

I raised my eyebrows. "Four? For two cars?

He shrugged, looking a might bashful. "Handy for guests."

Uh huh… and money talks.

"I see," I murmured. "And look at that, no opportunity for an ass in a Range Rover to introduce itself. Crafty…" I smirked.

His lips twitched. "Miss Swan I can assure you, I have not the faintest idea what you are talking about."

"Naturally," I giggled, stepping away from the car and allowing Edward to close the door.

He made quick work of collecting my suitcases and locking up his pride and joy, and refused to allow me to carry anything except for my flowers. We walked to a nearby elevator and stepped inside, Edward pressing the button marked 'L'.

The ride up was swift and the doors opened to reveal a very chic looking lobby. It was all pale wood panelled walls, grey marble flooring, spatters of green and red colouring and uncomfortable looking furniture that you only ever see in magazines. There was stylish, black granite built-in reception area at the far end and just beyond that, large double glass doors that led out onto the street. The man behind the desk was in the same charcoal coloured blazer as Rod had been, obviously a uniform of some sort. He seemed to be having a minor disagreement with a leggy blonde who was, in my opinion, very rudely tapping her long nails impatiently on top of the desk. I hated when people did that, some of the customers back at Newton's used to do that whilst I was ringing up their purchases. Little did they know how I used to envision slamming a stapler down onto their fidgeting digits to still the annoyance.

"The front doors," Edward raised a graffiti bag clad hand and pointed to the glassed exit. "Will take you out onto West Street. There are also side doors that open onto West 12th, and…" he began walking towards a single door and opened it. "Bethune Street. You will need your security code to get in through the side doors, they're considered to be more 'personal'." He rolled his eyes.

Tentatively, I began walking towards the street I was to spend the next four years of my life occupying. I couldn't sort through my emotions; there was this great big blend of uncertainty, fear, excitement and child-like curiosity that swarmed within me, no one emotion taking the more dominant presence.

I stepped through the door, out onto the sidewalk and felt a sudden sadness for what could have been, so rarely felt, well up within me. I may have been in New York, the buildings opposite and all around were a testament to that, but on this side of the street… this side was simply lovely.

The clean paved sidewalk made way for blossoming trees, old fashioned style lampposts and there was a distinct homely feel in the air. The red bricks and black iron railings all offered a sense of open welcome, and I found myself thinking of how nice it would've been to grow up on such a picturesque street as a child. It felt old-worldly. I could only imagine what it would be like to stare at the outside all covered in snow, the _Narnia_ styled lampposts giving off a warm, yellow glow.

I heard Edward close the door and walk up behind me.

"Any first thoughts?"

Oh Mr. Cullen, where to begin?

"It's wonderful," I whispered. And it was.

Edward bent to kiss the top of my head, snapping me from musings. "Let's get you in and unpacked. I don't know about you, but I'm famished!"

As if on cue, my stomach growled.

_Oh now that's attractive._

I followed after Edward, noting how each and every townhouse we passed was a little different. Some had big bay windows, some had balcony style railings covering the glass panes, some had grand, curving steps leading up to the front doors and a couple of the doorways had an impressive archway over them. Every house had some neatly kept shrubbery in front of it and when we finally reached the sixth house, Edward began to slow his pace.

Oh my, this was it.

Peering upwards, my eyes widened. _I_ was going to live here. Every one of the houses were magnificent in my eyes, but this house, this house blew me away, because this was now _my_ home. I had come from a run down, standard two bedroom family house to this palatial brick palace.

Talk about stepping up in the world.

It was four stories tall just as all of the others were, the very bottom floor laying a level beneath ground. There was a short flight of steps leading down to it. The ground floor before us had a large, creamy lemon coloured door that was framed by two floor to ceiling windows. Above, the two upper floors each had three large windows spanning the house's width. Edward's home had one of the spiral stone stairways leading up to the entrance which he'd began to climb, allowing me a private moment to take everything in.

I took to the steps slowly, one at a time, absorbing my surroundings in a disbelieving stupor. Edward was busy unlocking the door when I reached him. Opening it, he pushed the chunky wood asides and stood back, silently giving me permission to go on in.

The minute I was over the threshold, the scent hit me. Edward. This was most definitely, Edward Cullen's home. Have you ever noticed how every individual has their own 'home' smell? I always noticed it with Angela and Edward was seemingly no different. I couldn't really describe it; it was just unique to him. I did suppress my smile when I detected the faint trace of butter mints hanging in the air though. That aroma was easily identifiable and I was beginning to relate it solely to Edward.

I found myself standing in a wide hallway – no clinical white in sight. Instead, the flooring was a rich, dark wood and the walls a light, stone shade of cream. There were two staircases, one leading up and one leading down. The furnishings were minimal yet perfectly placed, all of them made from rough, naturally carved wood and stained dark to match the flooring. The most striking feature was the funny shaped piece of wood attached to the wall on my left. It looked like an extremely thin… tree trunk? There had been several pegs hammered into it where an array of coats and jackets were currently hung, and somebody had expertly carved something into it.

I walked closer and read out loud, "Life's a voyage that's homeward bound." I turned to grin at Edward. "Herman Melville?"

He rolled his eyes playfully. "We need to find you something more challenging."

Setting my bags down, Edward walked through an imposing double archway to the right. There were three of these in the hallway, one situated opposite on the left, and the other at the far end of the hall.

Upon entering this new room, I could instantly recognise it for what it was - Edward's workroom. The dark wooden floor flowed in, only the walls in here were painted in an off-grey. My eyes were instantly drawn to the flowing scripture painted in black on the facing wall.

"There are three classes of people: those who see. Those who see when they are shown. Those who do not see." I racked my brain, but could not place the words.

Casting a look about the room, I searched for a clue.

There was something very industrially arty about it with its tones of black, grey and white. The window was framed with thick black drapes and the longest desk I had ever seen before in my life sat in front of it. One half of its top was plain whitewashed wood, but the other half had one of those lighting contraptions built into it, the sort that shone light upwards through the top. There were plans and sketches scattered once again in that same messily organised way I had seen back at the Edgewater Hotel, along with pens, pencils and various tools that I couldn't have named.

The opposite wall was completely lined with built in shelves, most housed books but the one in the middle was full to the brim with awards.

_Holy crow!_

Directly beneath the black quotation was another long desk, this time accommodating two very high-tech looking computers. On each side of the quotation was black picture frame after picture frame, every one of them hosting an image of a different building. I walked towards them for closer inspection.

There were so many! And they were all so very varied. Some of the structures were super modern, some looked as though they were defying gravity and some were just plain old but historically beautiful.

And then I remembered the _Wiki_ page, and I gasped.

"You built all of these?" I pointed at a random section of the wall before jostling my finger backwards and forwards.

Edward shook his head before coming to stand behind me. "Not all of them, no. The much older ones," he pointed to a picture of a stunning cathedral. "Were merely renovated."

_Merely renovated? _

Well blow me to Bermuda! I hated to think of what an Edward Cullen cathedral would look like, were he ever to design one. Jeez… Modest too?

"Edward…" I said, utterly floored by what I was seeing. "These are… amazing." I couldn't take my eyes from them – any of them.

"Miss Swan, you flatter." He tickled my sides briefly. "Would you like to reconsider my offer to build you a place in Seattle? I'm sure I could work in a discount for you."

Oh, back to playful.

Smiling stupidly, I turned to him and raised my eyebrows. "Sure thing. I like that cathedral."

Edward barked out a laugh. "Alright, so we're looking at a rather _large_ discount then."

Giggling, I glanced back at the quote. "I don't know where it's from. I give up."

"Hmm," he nuzzled into my hair. "Da Vinci. And your hair doesn't smell right."

My hair? What was wrong with my hair?

Grabbing a fistful, I inhaled in a most unladylike fashion.

_Really boosting up those attractive qualities there, eh Swan? _

It smelled just as it always did – of cheap strawberry shampoo. The same shampoo I had used to wash my hair the morning that I went to first meet him. The same shampoo I used whilst I was…

Ah…

"You mean it doesn't smell like yours?" I clarified, somewhat teasingly.

I could feel his smile as his lips pressed against my ear and whispered, "Bingo!" He pulled away from me quickly and walked from the room. "How about we get you unpacked, order in some food and then I can give you a proper tour?"

"Alright then," I cast one final awed look at the pictures before following Edward out.

He picked up my suitcases once again and began walking towards the stairs leading up.

"Brief rundown, in there," he pointed to the archway on the left. "Is… well, I'm not entirely sure what you would call it. Friends have labelled it the music room, but it's more of a sitting room. It just happens to have the piano and a lot of my music in there. At the end," he directed my gaze towards the end of the hallway. "Is another sitting room, complete with a disgustingly large, ego boosting flat screen and more movies than you could ever possibly hope to watch in one lifetime. Downstairs is the kitchen and dining room. The second floor houses my study, the library, the guest bedroom and the main bathroom. The top floor is our rooms only. There is only one bathroom up there and it's connected to both rooms, though it's monstrously large and has his and her sides."

We were on the second floor and about to begin climbing the stairs to the third. The décor was much the same as the entrance hallway; only beneath my feet was a plush, thick cream carpet instead of the dark wood flooring. And instead of a long hall table, there was an old, rich brown worn leather chaise lounge.

"There are absolutely no restrictions being placed on you Bella, I want you to feel very much at home here. The only thing I would ask of you is that you don't tamper with any of my computers. They're incredibly important to me work-wise and there are year's worth of plans and data backed up onto them."

"Oh, I… I wouldn't." I stuttered.

He threw me a wink. "I know. I just thought it best to say it anyway."

We reached the top landing.

It was much smaller than the two hallways below. In fact, up here was more of a cubby. There were the two bedroom doors and a large skylight in the ceiling, but in each corner was a high wing backed chair and in-between them stood two large bookcases. I got the distinct impression that I would never be short on reading material here.

The most prominent aspect of the area however was the dark wooden spiral staircase leading upwards. Lord, how many stairs does one house need? I'd need to count them all.

Edward had paused directly outside of the second bedroom door and seemed to be waiting for me, though truthfully, I was more intrigued by the _fourth_ set of stairs in this house.

"Rooftop terrace." He elucidated.

Had I said _jeez_ already?

He must feel like Alice down the rabbit hold when in the kitchen…

Shaking my head in wonder, I approached Edward and the second door, but he didn't move. In fact, he looked nervous all of a sudden.

"Edward?"

He took a deep breath.

"If there's anything you don't like, I can have it changed easily. So please don't feel as though you _have_ to like it, alright?"

Eh?

Frowning, I looked to where his hand was now clasped around the door handle and back to his still anxious face.

"You've lost me." He really had.

He smiled tightly, pushed the handle down and gently swung the door inward.

I was instantly met by the faint scent of fresh paint… and new carpet. I snapped my head to the side to peer in.

"_Holy_ _shit!_"

The foreign words slipped from my mouth automatically in a breathless whisper. I was left staring bug eyed, blinking rapidly.

Surely he hadn't?

I'd only left him on Tuesday.

_How?_

The cream walls were almost as rich in colour as the thick looking carpet. Directly in front of me in the far corner sat another wing backed chair, only this one was covered in varying shades of striped green material. There was a cream blanket thrown over the back of it and a single throw pillow facing me, one simply stitched word embroidered onto it – _Home_.

Besides the chair on the facing wall, I could just about make out three floor to ceiling white wooden bookshelves, all empty and ready for their fill. There was even an attached ladder to the middle one. I could see no further beyond them, for the room must have been L shaped.

I tore my gaze back to the chair and ran my vision along the wall directly to my right. There were two doors, the one closest to me was a single, but the one nearer the chair was an imposing double.

I looked up at Edward, my mouth likely lolling open all over his nice, new carpet. He merely gave me an encouraging nod, as if to say, 'on you go in'.

My shocked and addled mind managed to break through a little common sense, reminding me that the carpet did indeed, look _brand_ _new_. So I slowly slipped my feet from my flats and hesitantly placed them onto the plushest, thickest carpet I had ever felt. Oh it was heavenly. My feet themselves may have decided to slaughter a goat and place it down next to my cow offering by way of showing their gratitude to the God, Edward Cullen.

My movements were akin to those of a frightened deer as I moved further into the room, though I felt no fear. I was just… mystified.

And there were my boxes.

All the way from Forks.

My things.

Mine.

In this house. His house.

Lying in neat stacks of three in the middle of the room, were my twelve boxes.

Oh my…

I walked up to them and placed my hands against them. Call me a child, but it felt so darn good to see them, to touch them. I wanted to hug them to me and never let them go. Mine.

Beyond the mounds of cardboard and sitting directly next to the shelves was a long corner desk made of the same whitened wood. On it, a computer, a printer, a home phone handset and what I thought looked like an iPod docking station with speakers. They all looked new. There was also a cream office chair tucked into the corner unit.

The wall that ran the longest and to the left of the shelved wall had three wide windows punctured into it. Every single one was dressed with white roman blinds and pale green curtains that fell to the floor. The view was to the back of the house where New York's West Village glimmered in the fading evening light.

The next wall I faced housed the bed. It was large with a green and white fabric headboard. The bedding was simple white but I wasn't fooled, I would bet good money on it being just as luxurious feeling as the carpet. There were bedside tables on each ends of the fluffed up pillows, and a deep, old looking trunk seated at the bed's end. Again, all white wood.

I was speechless.

I mean, what could I say?

'_Yeah, this is amazing. But I can't pay you back. I'm really not worth all of the effort and you will find me seriously lacking… Can I make you a lasagna?' _

Jesus.

I couldn't accept all of this. Not when the return Edward would be getting was… me. What the hell kind of bargain was that? Poor man.

With my teeth about to penetrate my bottom lip, I turned back to Edward and shook my head.

"Don't," he said, his eyebrows raised challengingly, a warning to his tone. "Even think about saying it."

I ignored him.

"I can't."

"I said don't."

"I'm not worth it," I continued shaking my head.

"I disagree."

"Edward, I don't equal all of," I waved my hand about. "… this."

He shrugged. "It's just stuff, Bella. And I still disagree."

_Deep breaths Bella! Deep breaths!_

"It is not just stuff! This must have cost you a fortune. I can't accept all of this."

"It _is_ just stuff, I have plenty of money and you will accept it because you signed a contract to say that you would." He countered.

It was _almost_ as if he had expected this… Had that fuelled his anxious look earlier perhaps?

"Edward," I tired calmly. "What I can give you in return, it doesn't…"

He cut me off.

"You are giving me you, Isabella. You are giving yourself to me, for _four_ _years_. Exactly how do you measure the worth of a person? Certainly not by," he flapped his fingers about the room. "Trinkets. This, all of this, is immaterial compared to what you have given up. How can you not see that?"

"You're already paying my tuition, Edward. Hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of tuition! Lord only knows what I can do to return that particular favour. How am I ever supposed to make up for all of this as well?"

"I would say that the value of your life for the next four years far outweighs any financial outlay on my part, Bella. It doesn't even come close to comparing. You," he began walking towards me. "Don't see yourself clearly, at all."

"And you're just not seeing. You will only end up disappointed and out of pocket."

He bent down towards me, staring me straight in the eye.

"I disagree." He leaned in and kissed the end of my nose. "Now let's get you unpacked. I've got all of New York to show you tomorrow."

* * *

**In case anybody missed the annoying A/N, I have signed up to do the Fandom Fights the Tsunami fundraiser. I'll be writing up an EPOV chapter to help raise money for the Red Cross. The links to the blog page and the author sign up list are both on my profile. The compilation will be forwarded to those who have donated at some point in May… I think.**

**Story recs: **

_**BilliCullen's 'A Shock to the System' and 'Clean Up on Isle 5'. **_

_**Touchstone67's 'If on a Winter's Night' for any Jasper/Edward fans. **_

_**Rosybud's 'Ladder to the Sun'.**_

**Lyrics used were Bruce Springsteen's 'Fire'. Go check it out, it's fabulous. **

**Next update – I'm working on it! New York's a big-ass place to describe *sobbing***


	11. Chapter 11

**Stephanie Meyer owns Twilight, no copyright infringement intended. **

**Massive thanks to Twihard-girl, BendItEdward and **_**especially**_** edwards-dubussy (whose suggestions and words were completely snatched up and put into this chapter, so I really can't take credit for them) for the New York help! **

**The usual gratitude to all of those who are reading/recommending/reviewing, etc. Big wave to all of the FB lovely's!**

**Pixiekat7 continues to be like my right arm, she really is just all-out chuffing marvellous. All hail the pixie lady!**

**Alright, we've got some fairly heavy descriptive narrative in this one. I know there's a definite spilt when it comes to what people like, but it's one of those to get to 'B' you have to go through 'A' type scenarios :)**

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"Some people walk in the rain, others just get wet."

~ Roger Miller

_Chapter Eleven_

There is a point in everybody's life where some things become routine. You learn to hold certain expectations, you develop certain prejudices and you can almost begin to distinguish how situations will unfold. On occasion, you may find yourself pleasantly surprised, or perhaps even shocked or saddened, when something doesn't quite pan out the way you had initially thought. And then there are those times where everything happens just as you had originally anticipated.

There are times in this life where we all expect the worst to happen. We observe a person or a situation and we immediately judge and criticise, for we have often seen many a tale spin the same old story with the same beginning and the same ending and we believe so vehemently that we know the outcome - and that that outcome will not be a good one. Like watching a car crash waiting to happen, there is often very little you can do to stop it, but you know in your heart of hearts that naught will end happily for anybody involved.

But then every once in a while, almost as if there really is a God 'up there' trying to reaffirm people's faith in humanity, something happens that completely blows all of your preconceptions right out of the water.

My own expectations, prejudices and foresight were really not that much different from any other ordinary person's. As a child I knew that taking candy from a stranger was a definite NO. As a young teen I knew never to accept a ride from a strange man in a van. And as a young adult, I knew that registering with a Sugar Daddy website would probably land me in hot water with a repulsive, sweaty, balding old man. And yet I did it anyway. I ignored every stigma, every screaming ounce of common sense and every right and wrong that I been brought up with and I went ahead with my search.

My expectations were tuition money in exchange for sex.

My prejudices led me to envisage a creep with halitosis.

And my foresight told me that it would work out, because it would be nothing more than a detached arrangement for four years, that while it may not be ideal, would highly benefit my future prospects.

Before I continue, I would like to submerge you all in one tiny little picture.

Thursday 2nd September.

Edward was called into his office early in the morning for an emergency meeting. Something had gone wrong whilst attempting to fit the glass panels into a new all glass structure his company were currently overseeing, and he had needed to sort the problem out quickly before the project deadline was jeopardised.

Finding myself all alone, I had dressed, downloaded a transit map application of New York onto my iPhone via Edward's pervious instructions, and left for the day.

I had heard of a fantastic bookstore called _The_ _Strand_, and I wanted to investigate.

I'd strolled happily and without any wrong turns up to 8th Avenue, where I had hopped onto the subway heading towards Rockaway Parkway. I'd clambered off at the Union Square 14th Street station and made a quick journey down Broadway towards the bright red hooded hangovers of my target.

My God, what a place! I must have spent hours in there just trawling through the shelves of books. They had everything, new, used, rare – they even had Curated Collections. I was not surprised when the woman at the checkout announced my total of $203.85. I'd happily handed over my card, not Edward's, but mine. It had been my treat to myself and I felt overtly proud to pay for the purchases with my _own_ money.

From there, I'd made my way up towards Union Square Park, stopping only briefly at a Starbucks to grab a coffee and something to eat. I'd spent all afternoon sheltering myself from the scorching New York heat under a large, shaded tree and simply immersed myself in my new reading material. The sounds of the city all around me had been welcome, there were various dance and musical acts performing freely and with spirit within the park's grounds and the general feel within the open space had been a cheerful one. I'd absorbed it all, snapping pictures occasionally to add to my album.

Time had completely escaped me and I had been shocked to find myself still in place at six o'clock. I had quickly gathered my things and made for home, giving myself a big pat on the back for remembering which way to go sans map. I had only just missed the subway going to 8th Avenue, so I waited patiently for the next.

I didn't walk through the front door until just after half past six. The house had been quiet but the lights were on, indicating Edward's return. I'd checked his workroom and the music room, but hadn't found him in either. My next guess had been the kitchen.

And this is the picture that I wanted to share.

Edward _had_ been in the kitchen and upon seeing him; my preconceptions were blown right out of the water.

You see, Edward Cullen was many things. He was rich, successful, devastatingly handsome, accomplished, knowledgeable, kind hearted and so on and so on. In layman's terms, he really was almost too good to be true.

But I didn't see any of that when I walked silently into the kitchen.

No.

What I saw was a man hunched over the breakfast bar, running a hand anxiously through his hair as his other hand repeatedly fiddled with his cell. There had been a bag of promised Chinese takeout sitting untouched on the counter top, along with a bottle of wine and two unused glasses. There was something incredibly defeated about the way Edward had held himself in the large room, all by himself. The atmosphere in the kitchen had been strange, there was a tenseness radiating off of Edward… a certain desperation to his movements as he tugged at his hair and keyed numbers into his phone.

I had always struggled to understand Edward's reasoning behind taking me in. I wasn't a fool, I was well aware of the differences between us. He seemingly had it all - he had everything that I did not. And for once that was not my self-deprecating nature talking; it was merely what I saw as truth. What could I, realistically, ever possibly offer such a man?

I was very young, where he was not. I was inexperienced, where he had a world of practice behind him. I was plain, where he was surreally beautiful. I didn't have any money, where he had enough to last several lifetimes. I was relatively intelligent for my age, where he was accomplished beyond all sense. The list was continuous. I had nothing that he did. We were not equal. He was everything to my nothing.

But in that one silent moment of observation on Thursday evening, a small part of the puzzle had finally slipped into place. It hit me like a freight train, all at once and in rapid succession.

'_I made an offhand comment some months back about only ever attracting gold-diggers…'_

'_I just want you. Simple. I would like a little companionship. New York can be a very lonely place for a single man in his late thirties, especially one who avoids dating.'_

'_I cannot think of anything that would make me happier, than to simply come home and find you fast asleep on my sofa. To come home knowing that there is somebody there for me to take care of…'_

'_I don't much like the notion of coming home to find you not there, having no idea of your whereabouts.'_

'_If you want me to come and get you, I will. You take priority. I'm only a phone call away…'_

Edward was… _lonely_.

I had not once stopped to really take in his words before, to really consider them. I had simply seen a man with the world at his feet - a beautiful, talented, wealthy man who couldn't _possibly_ feel lonely because of his social status and fortunate charms. I had put Edward Cullen up on a pedestal where loneliness surely never reached him. I mean, how could it? When you seemingly have everything in this world, how could you ever feel all alone in it? He had it all, didn't he?

Except that he didn't and I had realised that as I'd stood there watching him.

He couldn't have relationships. His work commitments took over far too much of his time and his money and success probably led him to question intent constantly. There would be two 'types' of women Edward would date; the 'clinging vines' who ended up resenting his time away from the relationship, or the gold-digger's who stayed because of his wealth.

No wonder he had chosen to opt out, the prospects weren't exactly gleaming with prosperity.

'_I've waited a long time for you.'_

'_I suppose you could say James saw something in your profile that I would find… acceptable.'_

Acceptable – I'd very nearly snorted at that. I wasn't acceptable; I was actually perfect for him. I _needed_ his money but I didn't _want_ it. He would never have to worry about me trying to take advantage of his wealth. I didn't want gifts, I didn't want spoiled. I was no pampered little princess. We were bound contractually, both getting exactly what we needed so there would never be cause to cling. Edward could give as much or as little as he wanted and the only complaint he would ever hear from me would be when I thought he was giving too much. It had absolutely nothing to do with my age and everything to do with wanting somebody here for him.

'_I want hassle free. And unfortunately, that's just not realistic.'_

No, it wasn't realistic. Yet he had found a way to get it nonetheless. He had found me. And whilst I would probably always think the balance unequal, Thursday night had at least revealed something important: Edward _was_ getting something out of all of this. Though the balancing scales had not been weighed in the way I had expected them to be. Edward had not once, _not_ _once_, broached the subject of sex. He had never demanded anything of that nature from me, Christ; he had given me my own room!

'_I am not a scoundrel, Isabella.'_

'_I would hope for a certain level of natural progression.'_

Edward was more than happy to allow things to take a natural course, he was giving me time. There was no rush for a sexual relationship and he had never once tried to push the issue with me.

Edward simply wanted company. He wanted somebody to come home to and I hadn't been there.

My heart had clenched painfully for him. If somebody like Edward felt alone, what hope did the rest of us have?

But what if I could stop it, what if I really did have a purpose here with Edward? What if, despite mine and everybody else's prejudices against the whole 'Sugar Daddy' world, there was something deeper, something far more delicate to grasp a hold of in this one, peculiar instance? I surely couldn't change my past, my feelings towards relationships or my self-criticism, but perhaps I could push it all away to be here for him. I couldn't give him much; I didn't have anything to _really_ offer him, but this, this I definitely could do. I _could_ be the welcoming smile he came home to.

Silently, I'd crept up behind him and placed a bag from _The_ _Strand_ down in front of him. I'd found an old book all about ancient architecture in the store and thought of him immediately. I hadn't spotted anything like it in his workroom and I'd wanted to get him _something_ to say thank you.

His head had snapped up instantly, the look of sheer relief that painted his face had me mentally lashing myself. I'd barely blinked before my feet left the ground, my body being crushed into his.

"Jesus, Bella! I was so worried!" He'd said, burying his nose into my hair.

I'd felt awful. I had been so caught up enjoying my day that I'd never thought to check my phone. I hadn't even left him a note.

I lost count of how many times I said sorry to him. I hated being the cause of his worry. I didn't like that my absent-mindedness had made him that way.

"It doesn't matter, you're home now." He'd sighed happily. "It was Chinese you wanted, right?"

Yes, some things in life become routine. But at times, if you're very lucky, something or someone comes along and challenges everything that you think you see or know.

I applied to a Sugar Daddy website and expected a slug.

What I actually got - was incredible.

(*)

My sleep filled eyes began to flutter open just as a light touching breeze danced across them. The room was bright and filled with a fresh morning scent. I smiled when I saw that my curtains had been opened and my blinds rolled up half way, all three windows had been cracked open just a little to entice some cool air inside. The contrast between the feel of the soft-as-silk cotton sheets and the delicate whisper of the wind had me stretching out in a state of utter bliss.

This was the life.

New York had been suffering from a building late summer heat wave this past week. It had started off as simply warm t-shirt weather, but had fast turned into the baking heat I'd once known from my days back in Phoenix. I had revelled in it. Three years of perpetual rain had me basking in the city's sunrays. I couldn't get enough of being outdoors, much to Edward's amusement.

Oh Edward…

I flickered my eyes upwards knowingly to check my nightstand, and there it was, my steaming hot cup of vanilla flavoured coffee, in _my_ mug. Just like every other morning, always waiting for me. I turned my head sideways to check the opposite pillow and again, I was faced with the secondary part of what had become our morning routine these last seven days. The box was plain black today, no Tiffany turquoise in sight. It was also bigger than the others had been. This was no ring box.

Edward had done this for me every morning. The curtains were always drawn, the windows were always open, my coffee was always waiting for me and a new charm was always eagerly awaiting its introduction to my bracelet.

The strange thing about our morning ritual was how in sync my body seemed to be with Edward's presence. At first it had puzzled me the way I would wake up to find the coffee still fresh and piping hot, the second day it happened I was convinced it was merely a fluke. Day four however, I _sensed_ him. I had not heard him enter, or open the windows. I had not seen him approaching my bed. I had not smelled the aroma of my coffee as it was silently situated onto my side table. I had not felt the touch of his fingers running through my hair or the kiss he placed upon my temple. I had not heard the shuffle of the pillow as he placed my new box down besides my sleeping form. And I had _certainly_ not heard his whispered, 'Good morning, Bella'.

No, I had not experienced any of those things. But I knew - I _knew _that he was there, doing all of them. And my unconscious mind would ready itself to awaken just as he left through the door.

I sat up slowly, letting out a happy sigh of complete contentment. I had never felt so at peace with the world. This past week had been nothing short of incredible, Edward had made it so.

I reached out for my coffee and began to take small sips, smiling stupidly into the mug as the Vanilla vapour assaulted my senses. He even managed to get my coffee absolutely perfect every morning, black with half a sugar.

I set the cup back down as the liquid sloshed around the halfway point and instead of reaching for the new box straight away, I bent over the side of my bed and hauled up my New York photo album. This was something that I had promised to myself as I'd gotten into bed for the first time last week. I had promised myself lots of memories. The album was large with sepia coloured New York landmarks on the front of it and it was very nearly filled already. I'd bought it specifically to document my first week here and thanks to Edward, I had a brand new digital camera and photo printer mysteriously appear in my room last Sunday morning.

I flipped the album open.

Sunday 29th August.

I had woken up to find a Tiffany box lying next me, inside it was an odd shaped platinum silver charm with the letters 'NY' engraved onto it. I am still avoiding any thoughts regarding its cost, because I know that the little round sparkles set within it are _not_ Cubic Zirconias. But the charm had marked the beginning of my adventures here.

Each picture depicted every aspect of my first day; the train ride down to South Ferry to board the Staten Island Ferry, the mind blowing, majestic views of New York harbor and lower Manhattan. I saw and documented it all, the towering skyscrapers, the sheer vastness of the city, the impressive bridges, Lady Liberty and Ellis Island. There was a photo of Edward and I at the railings of the ferry, he'd had his arms wrapped around me as a passenger snapped us looking out at the water. Then came Times Square.

It had scared the _crap_ out of me.

The people, oh the people. So _many_ people! Sunday afternoon in Times Square, I feared for my life. I did, I won't lie.

Edward had booked us a tour, where our guide 'Anya' proceeded to spend an hour showing the group of quivering visitors around. There aren't even enough words in the dictionary to describe the place. It was huge. Everything about it screamed, 'I'm big and you're small!'

Anya had called it, 'The Crossroads of The World'. I had labelled it, 'Here Lies Isabella. Massacred by Yellow Cabs'.

After that were the photos of me grinning moronically outside of The New York Public Library, then some pictures of us both on Park Avenue and then there we were on East 43rd Street, outside of Edward's office building. My favourite photo of all was the one of him looking sweetly bashful as I made him stand in front of the 'Cullen Architecture' plaque.

Monday 30th August.

My box had been dark blue with the word 'Swarovski' written on it. I'd smiled when I saw the delicate image of a white swan placed above the letters. Inside had been a tiny clip-on silver fish charm, studded with blue crystals.

He had given me a little fish.

We had taken the subway up to 81st Street and spent all morning and a good part of the afternoon wandering around the American Museum of Natural History. I had pictures of Edward and I standing in front of the goliath 94-foot-long blue whale, the gigantic Tyrannosaurus Rex and in the pretty butterfly conservatory. It was five floors of jaw dropping exhibits and mindboggling information. Edward had dropped $140 on a 'Venus' paperweight for me after I'd made a comment about not being able to see the stars anymore because of the city's glare. I'd kept my mouth shut after that, I'd seen a 6 foot cuddly lion in the children's section and there was no way in hell I was walking around Manhattan with it all because I had made a flippant, 'oh, isn't that cute!' remark.

We'd spent the remainder of the afternoon walking around Central Park and when I say walking, I mean we collapsed at the first sign of greenery and talked as Edward played with my hair.

Tuesday 31st August.

Another Swarovski box. There was a silver whale dotted with blue crystals inside. I didn't know if it symbolised our trip to the museum and my fascination over the large model or if it was in reference to my, 'That's you. I'm the little fish, you're the big, all-knowing whale' comment. Perhaps both. I didn't care. I had happily placed my whale next to my little fish. I thought they made an unusual pair.

Tuesday was spent getting to know the West Village. I had picture after picture of hidden away alleys and picturesque townhouses. The place was absolutely filled with fashionable little boutiques and Edward had treated me to a beautiful blue and white patterned vintage one shouldered dress. It was at _his_ insistence that we spent the following _hour and a half_ looking for shoes that would match. We'd eventually came across a pair of turquoise suede sling back death-traps.

That night he took me out for the first time. We went to a jazz club called _Blue Note_ that was in Greenwich Village, I wore my new dress. The place was amazing. Front row seats where the saxophone blew loud, the drinks were flowing and the coconut fried shrimp followed by a juicy steak were too damn delicious for words. Edward knew the owners. We had pictures with both them and the acts that had played.

Wednesday 1st September.

A small black velvet box. There was a tiny silver clip-on saxophone inside.

Edward had driven us to Brooklyn Botanic Gardens. We did a painting workshop. Edward's masterpiece was just that, a freakin' masterpiece. My own work looked like a dog had dipped its ass into the paint and proceeded to rub it all over the small canvas. Regardless, Edward had insisted that I let him keep it. Strange man.

He took me to Prospect Park Zoo after that, I'd never been to a zoo before. Renee's general response to school fieldtrip requests had always been an all out 'no' and Charlie always used to say he couldn't afford them. I'd liked the owls the best, though I think my child-like fascination with the animals and birds there had dampened Edward's mood a little. I think he struggled to understand how I was so lacking in so many experiences.

Thursday 2nd September.

I'd had two boxes. The first was from 'Links of London' and had a tiny silver paint pallet and paint brush charm inside. The second box was plain red and when I opened it, a silver owl studded with diamonds sparkled up at me.

All of my pictures of Union Square Park and the outside of _The Strand_ bookstore stared back at me. It really had been loveliest afternoon. Edward had booked us tickets that night to go to see _Wicked_ on Broadway. After we had eaten he'd presented me with a great white box and after peeling my way through the layers of tissue paper, my hands had made contact with a green silk dress. I'd mentally thanked Angela for forcing me into buying a pair of black heels, because on Thursday night, I had walked into that theatre on Edward's arm and actually felt… pretty. Well, despite the silly black witch's hat Edward had placed on my head. Theatre vendors were no friends of mine.

Edward had kept a close hold on me all night; I _think_ it was a reaction to my disappearance that day and it had made him visibly a little edgy. In fact, I think it was only his sense of propriety that had kept him from pulling me down onto his lap for the entire show.

Friday 3rd September.

It had been a circular white and black striped box with a flowing black signature yesterday morning. _Thomas Sabo_. I gave myself another ten mental lashes when I saw the detailed clip-on cell phone charm. The message was subtle, but it was received loud and clear – _please answer your phone and let me know that you're alright_.

We'd spent the day in Central Park. Edward had packed us up, picnic in tow and whisked us off to soak up the sun on Sheep Meadow. It was a hard place to try to describe. It was so unbelievably green and lush and yet floating above the tree tops was a hovering mass of buildings. It was an urban oasis, right in the centre of a frenetic city. I had fallen asleep reading at some point, only to wake up sprawled across Edward's chest. It felt nice. I'd become a little greedy with my hugs, I may not have actively initiated one since the airport, but there was a part of me that collapsed into Edward's arms now whenever I felt them around me. I liked that he never pulled away from me; he let me stay there as long as I wanted. I'd never had that before.

We went to a place called Aldea for dinner. It had meant another new dress, which Mr. Money Bags just so happened to have all ready for me. Throughout my entire entrée I'd had a fork fight with the man-child as he continually tried to make a beeline for _my_ paella. I think we both fell asleep last night with aching jaws; there had been much laughing done.

And that had been my week so far, all stuffed into a photo album and ready for revisiting any time that I wanted. I could honestly say that I'd had the time of my life; I'd never had so much raw _fun_ before. There was something very uplifting about being young and carefree; I hadn't felt that way in a long time. Edward had said last Sunday that I was 'wise beyond me years', but that I had 'forgotten how to just be young."

Well, this week I had certainly remembered. Ironic how I'd managed that with a man nearly twenty-one years my senior, huh?

I set the album down on the bed, took another sip of my coffee and reached for the new box. I was eager to see what he'd conjured up this time. I had no idea how he was able to get the charms so quickly or how his choices were so accurate. But one thing was clear; he put a hell of a lot of thought into them.

I nearly choked when I lifted the lid.

_Here we go! _Inner rolled her eyes.

_3…_

_2…_

_1…_

Nooooo…

He hadn't. Please tell me he hadn't!

I'd given myself several pep talks over the last few days about learning to accept Edward's generosity. Giving me things seemed to make him happy and that's why I was here, right? To make him happy? It didn't mean that I was inwardly thrilled about it, sometimes it made me feel cheap and sometimes it made me feel like I was no better than those money-hungry tarts floating about on that vile website, but I _was_ beginning to perfect the art of strained acceptance.

But _this_?

This was, without a doubt, absolutely one _thing_ too much!

I couldn't, no – I wouldn't ever be able to accept this.

Throwing back the covers, I snatched the charm from its box and went in search. We needed to talk. There was just no way...

I ignored the fact that I was in nothing but my 'NOT a morning person' pyjama shorts and tank top set as I padded down the thickly carpeted stairs. My fitness levels had soared ten points since arriving here, it was no wonder he hadn't put in a home gym. Who needed one with four staircases in their house? That was fifty-two bloody steps, _by the way_.

I found him in his workroom, bent over his desk, meticulously going over some plans. I don't think the man ever slept.

He was casual today, no suit pants or shirt in sight. He obviously wasn't expecting to get called into the office at any point. He was in a green and white striped polo shirt and light wash jeans, barefoot. The hair was a complete mess, which meant he'd been running his fingers through it more than usual. Something had stressed him out. I didn't want to make things worse for him if that was the case, but I also knew that I had to address this. I refused to lose myself to a man's money. I couldn't just roll over with this one, I had to say something.

I approached him without making a sound, momentarily surprised by my own stealth. I didn't trip once or break any toes. Edward hadn't heard me, so when I 'drove' the little charm across his plans, I watched his entire body stiffen.

He slowly looked to the side and… oh my.

Hussy bolted in; seemingly back from her prolonged visit to the Isle of Swoon. I hadn't heard from her all week, she'd jumped ship on Sunday evening. Watching Edward bend down repeatedly whilst moving my boxes around had just been too much for her.

Emerald pools blinked up at me, framed by _the glasses_.

I could already feel my resolve slipping. _The glasses_ were bad. Very bad. Bad for Bella.

He dropped his pencil slowly; the movement measured, and pulled himself up to full height.

_Don't do the creepy up and down 'checking him out' stare thing! Don't do it! DO NOT!_

Jeez, even his feet were nice.

_God dammit Swan!_

I gulped as my eyes met his. My, he was pretty. And what was it about those _glasses_?

Edward cocked his head to the side and raised his eyebrows.

Oh right, the charm…

"Edward," I began, my voice small. "I can- OH!"

I was lifted off my feet.

Before I had time to catch my breath or even blink he had put me down on his desk. His legs gently nudged mine apart and he came to stand between them. Oh he was close. He placed his hands on either side of me, elbows bent slightly. When he brought his face down towards my own, his eyes flickered from mine to my mouth. And then there were lips on my lips.

Coffee in bed, glasses, lips…

_The Charm, Bella. THE CHARM!_

The lips felt nice.

And then he was gone, not removed in body, just in lips.

He picked up his pencil and a stray ruler, looked down at the plans and started to do… something.

It took me a moment or three longer than it should have to register what was happening.

He'd continued on, as if I wasn't there - as if I wasn't sat in the middle of his desk, directly on top of his plans, my backside no doubt eclipsing every major detail. He just… worked around me.

His head remained bent, his eyes were concentrated and Hussy was squealing her approval of his 'sexy man glasses'. The sound of his pencil scratching into the paper resonated loudly within my ears and the continuous flicks of his ruler were well exercised, precise and swift.

When his left arm snaked around me to hold the ruler in place, his head tipped down further, causing his hair to brush against my bare shoulder.

I gasped inaudibly, holding my breath.

He was _so_ close.

When his right hand swept over the paper to remove the tiny, unused graphite specks, his left arm closed in towards me.

Seemingly satisfied after what felt like an age, he began to pull away. I was about ready to pass out from a lack of oxygen when I felt his lips press lightly against my arm.

"Good Morning, Isabella." He said smoothly, not pausing the movements of his hands for a second. "Did you sleep well?"

Sleep?

I slept?

Was he _talking_?

The fitness points may have rocketed, but the IQ was steadily declining.

I blamed the glasses.

The back of his hand brushed lightly against the top of my bare thigh as he aligned his ruler and started making a succession of detailed lines. He worked quickly, pausing only to adjust positioning. His ruler clad hand soon bunched into a fist and moved to the space between my legs, his knuckles pressed firmly against the edge of the wooden table as his right hand began scrawling rapid, numbered measurements.

"Was there something you wished to discuss?" He blew over the paper, driving the graphite shavings away.

I swallowed and made and extended, 'Hmmmm' noise.

His lips twitched.

"Hmmmm," he countered, a little dryly.

He stood up, studying his work.

He frowned.

And then he was leaning in towards me – right in. I felt my back arch as I moved with him, away from him. He dropped the ruler in between my parted legs and reached behind me.

Time stopped.

He was right over me, hovering, eyes boring straight into mine.

There was a metallic clanging. Our bodies slowly righted themselves as we moved back into position and he broke eye contact to concentrate on the strange looking tool that was now in his hands.

He resumed working.

"Did you need help attaching the charm?" He asked causally. _Too casually_.

Oh… the charm.

Yes, the charm. We were going to discuss the charm.

"Edward, you know that I can't accept it." I said breathlessly.

"And why is that?" He bit his lip as he concentrated on a particularly complicated set of manoeuvres.

I watched him work in awe. I'd never seen anything like this before. The way his fingers moved, the way things just suddenly came together, it was incredible. He was so confident here, doing his 'thing'.

I began tilting my head in time to his pencil's movements.

"It's too much." I responded absently.

"Hmmmm."

He dropped the metal contraption and picked up another pencil, scribbling down more numbers. He dropped the pencil.

A moment passed before he looked up at me, triumphant grin in place.

"Why Miss Swan, who would have thought it?"

_Who would have_… what?

"Thought what?"

"You my beauty," he cupped my face in his hands. "Must be my good luck charm. I've spent two hours trying to get that right."

His fingers began tucking my hair behind my ears. My eyes closed on their own accord.

"Edward, the car?" I pressed, absolutely no fight in my voice at all.

"Mmm…" He kissed one side of my mouth and then the other, and then fully…

It felt as though my blood was pumping furiously through my lips, hot, pulsing, alive. I was out of breath, out of mind, out of anything rational. There was only the feel of him, the feel of his lips on mine, feeling right. They fit together, they synchronised, they became a mould.

I went into autopilot. My mind could never have done it; I couldn't have made this up myself. But my body, my body snatched up its flight of fancy and discarded the manual book. It just knew what to do.

My hands snaked slowly up his chest, feeling the hard, toned muscled beneath them. They reached his shoulders, they squeezed, they found his neck, up and up and up they went. His jaw, the tickle of the slight stubble there, the softness of his cheeks, his ears. Oh his hair… I tugged gently. Edward moaned.

His hands glided down my sides and came to rest on my naked legs. He gave his own squeeze, harder than mine had been.

I gasped.

I felt his smile as he captured my top lip between both of his, running his tongue _all_ the way along…

I was nothing but a pile of jellied glop.

"The car stays."

_Aw crap!_

(*)

"It's warm in the sun." He smiled over at me.

Madman, that's what he was. Completely and utterly batcrap crazy.

Of course it was warm in the sun, we were so high up we were probably only a few miles away from it!

The Empire State building. It was very tall. And we were right at the top. I'd been clinging onto the wall for dear life since we arrived up here – twenty minutes ago.

"Bella, it's perfectly safe sweetheart."

"But how do you know that?" I shot at him, fingers digging into the side desperately.

He gave me a, '_seriously?_' look.

Damn architect…

"I realise that this is probably a little late in coming, but I'm not so good with heights like this."

He gave me a sympathetic smile and strolled over to me, taking my sweaty, shaking hands into his.

"Bella," he bent his head to look me in the eyes. "Do you really think that I would have brought you up here if it wasn't safe?"

"Well… no. But, well… it's very high." I jabbered. "Very high."

I didn't dare look round. My stomach felt as though it was freefalling.

Edward chuckled.

It took another ten minutes of persuasion, but he got me to the side. I had to keep my eyes closed and he had to continually kiss me, but he got me there long enough to hand the camera to a random person, and for them to take the shot.

The minute I heard my digital camera beep, I bolted back to safety.

(*)

"Thank God it came out alright. You weren't getting me back over there for another!" I laughed as Edward unlocked the front door.

He shook his head, the amusement clear on his face.

"Why didn't you tell me? I never would have taken you up in the first place if I'd known."

I smiled shyly. "I wanted the picture."

He pushed the door open, allowing me to enter first.

He hadn't even shut the door closed before a towering, unknown blonde came darting angrily out of the music room.

"Edward, where the hell have you been?"

She stopped short when she saw me and I watched as her eyes narrowed into slits.

"And who the _fuck_ are you?"

* * *

**I'm on Facebook under 'Positively Fourth Street', feel free to add me and come say hi. I post up weekly teasers/pictures. **

**Thank you to everybody who has donated to the FandomFightsTsunami fundraiser, it's doing really well and there are lots of amazing writers who are contributing. I'm doing an Edward outtake for anybody who may be interested. The links to the blog/author sign up list are both on my profile. **

**Massive thanks to everybody who offered to help with the French trans – bear with me, FF has been playing up loads and I am struggling to get out responses out to everyone! **

**Update – probably a week.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Stephanie Meyer owns Twilight, no copyright infringement intended. **

**Is everybody else cursing FanFiction to the heaven's as well...? I'm very growly. **

**I bow down to the pixie lady, she works oh so hard to make this a better story and deserves many a squish and plenty of wine for pre-reading/beta'ing/being my lifeline. I heart you hard woman, I really do. **

**Thank you to everybody who continues to read, leave feedback and rec this wee thing here, it bemuses me but means such a great deal. **

**Shout out to the filthy FB lot *snort* Nyddi, we are waiting with baited breath ;) No pressure, no pressure… **

**So… who the EFF is the rude blonde? **

**Songs for the chapter: Jose Gonzalez - 'Crosses' and Dido - 'Life for Rent'. **

* * *

"Our brightest blazes of gladness are commonly kindled by unexpected sparks."

~ Samuel Johnson

_Chapter Twelve_

Tall.

Tanned.

Blonde.

Beautiful.

Angry.

Goddess.

That's what faced me. If it wasn't for her almost Medusa-like vibe, I would have thought her an angel. As it was, I expected her hair to morph into a mass of hissing, spitting snakes at any moment.

She looked really, really mad. Stunningly gorgeous, but mad.

And her scorched, fury filled honeyed eyes were trained right on me.

I took a precarious step backwards. Edward was behind me somewhere, perhaps I could hide behind him, use him as a shield. I mean, needs must in some situations, right?

_It's been nice knowing you, Edward._

The door clicked shut. I heard him sigh.

Footsteps approached me from behind. Behind was good. I was A-OK with behind. It's what was before me that made me want to turn tail with my would-be murder victim and bolt for Europe.

"Whilst I'm sure that attitude serves you well on Chanel sale days, it is not appreciated, nor will it be tolerated in _this_ house. Apologise, now."

Holy crap… angry Edward! That was a new one.

I felt his right arm hook around my shoulder, over my collar bone and below my neck, bringing me backwards into him… flush against him.

I wanted to cling on and hide. Edward equalled safety and I wanted the hell out of dodge.

"Oh fuck off with your chivalrous bullshit, Edward! Who the hell is she?" She spat, pointing a well manicured finger at me.

Her voice was melodic but filled with undertones of acid. I had no idea that was even possible. It was like a dangerous calling, drawing you in only to chew you out.

It was really quite frightening.

Edward's grip on me tightened as he placed a tender kiss to my temple, just before whispering, "Bella, why don't you go and get something to eat? I'll be with you shortly."

My head snapped round to face him, my eyes wide.

He wanted me to walk passed her? _By myself?_ She looked like she wanted to eat me! I liked _living_!

However, one look at his beautiful features told me not to question, just to do. He wasn't the Edward I had always been privy to anymore, the Edward who had just given me the best week of my life, the kind Edward.

No.

He was tight jawed, frosty eyed and radiating ire Edward now. And the slightly alarming thing about that was how incredible he looked. The God was showing his wrath and boy was it awe worthy.

Slowly I nodded, collecting myself and making my move to head for the staircase. Edward seemed both reluctant and keen to let me go. Medusa on the other hand, had other ideas.

"Oh I don't fucking think so!" She snapped, moving directly into my chosen path. "I want some answers, and I want them now!"

"Rosalie!" Edward suddenly bellowed, making me jump three feet in the air. Christ, the man could shout. "Let her passed - that's not a request!"

Rosalie… the sister.

_Oh God…_

"Up yours, Edward! You've got some serious fucking explaining to do." I was awarded a derisive 'up and down' glance that made me feel roughly an inch tall.

I shifted uncomfortably, feeling entirely out of place in my purple gypsy skirt and cream tank top with Mrs. New York Fashionista here. It was like I was back in High School all of a sudden with Lauren and Jessica constantly sneering their disapproval at me. I didn't exactly relish the idea of having that particular treatment follow me all the way to New York.

What was I supposed to do? I didn't want to be caught up in this. I wanted away!

Clueless, I turned back to Edward, awaiting instructions.

"Watch your mouth! The vulgarity's not required." His eyes flickered to mine, softening. "Bella, go and fetch the keys for the Mini, maybe change your shoes? This won't take long."

The Mini… my Mini. The keys were still in the box upstairs, along with my new security card. I hadn't even seen it yet, we'd come home early to take it out for a late afternoon drive. If the silver charm now attached to my bracelet was anything to go by, it was a convertible.

Yes I should go get the keys and get out of here.

"_Bella_?" The blonde sneered. "Oh, it has a name?"

Jesus.

I hurried my steps away from the firing line and bolted straight for the stairs leading up to the first floor. I felt Edward's eyes upon me the whole time I was still visible. I didn't even manage to reach the next set of steps before things… _erupted_.

"Have you lost your Goddamn mind?" His sibling screeched. "What in the name of fuck are you doing, Ed-"

"ENOUGH!"

Oh my… the man could really, really shout.

I wanted to make a mental note to myself, warning me not to ever make him mad. But something told me that was unnecessary. Edward had never been anything but a complete gentleman to me, he had never so much as raised his voice before. Yet his sister was bringing out a new side to him, a more colourful side. It was almost, dare I say it, protective.

I scurried towards the final flight of stairs.

"If you think for one second that you can just barge in here and speak to her that way, you are sorely mistaken. I will not put up with it, Rose. Am I making myself clear?"

I finally reached our floor. Safety.

"No, Edward! None of this is clear, that's the problem. _Who is she_?"

Call it morbid curiosity, call it wrong, but I was suddenly very eager to hear his response to that. Who was I – what was I? We had never talked about this, about what we would say to people if asked. The truth was hardly a fairytale I wanted people knowing.

So I stopped directly outside of my bedroom door, listening. I'd give myself a naughty slap on the wrist for doing so later.

"She," Edward enunciated irately. "… is Isabella. And you'd do well to remember her name."

"And why is that, because you've moved her twelve year old ass in here? Don't think I didn't see that room, Edward."

Oh Lord, had she been in my room? My room with my things in it? That felt all different kinds of wrong. That was… intrusive. Had she touched anything?

"The next time I find that you've invited yourself into _my_ house and invaded Bella's privacy, Rose, I'll have you arrested and claim no relation. Just who do you think you are, exactly?"

"I'm your sister and I'm worried!" She yelled. "_God_, do I really have to explain that?"

For some reason, her statement struck me as a little odd.

Edward hadn't spoken a great deal about his family. I knew that he and his sister were adopted as babies. His father's name was Carlisle and he was a highly successful Neurologist. His mother, Esme, ran her own interior design company, but Edward had made it sound like more of a hobby than a career. From the little he had told me, his mother was more of a New York social elite, a lady who liked to squeeze in gossip over brunch _and_ lunch. They were both in their mid sixties and both came from 'old money'. I'd been saddened to learn that his parents had refused to support his chosen career path before he went to college. Apparently, the Cullen men had a very long familial tradition of becoming doctors and Edward had opted out, incensing his father. His understanding over my financial struggles had certainly made more sense after learning of it; Edward had worked himself to the bone to be granted his own scholarship. By the sounds of things it wasn't easily achieved - the college boards had been reluctant to award a young man from such a wealthy, prestigious background a grant that could have been given to somebody of equal intellectual merit, but from much less desirable circumstances.

His sister was an interesting case. There was a definite unwillingness on Edward's part to discuss her in any real capacity, not that I had pushed for details. Minor things such as her age, thirty-two, and her marriage to a man named Emmett McCarty, had been revealed. Edward's parents had not agreed to their marital match, Emmett wasn't quite as well bred as they would have liked, allegedly. Lord knows what they would think of me.

But that was all I knew of them.

I had gotten the definite impression however, that as siblings, Edward and Rosalie weren't close. Yet here she was worrying about him all of a sudden – in his house.

Like I said, odd.

"Oh spare me the theatrics! The only person you ever worry about is yourself, so perhaps the explanation you should be offering me is why you are really here?"

"You can't just disappear off the face of the earth and expect nobody to notice, Edward!"

"No, but I certainly wouldn't expect _you_ to notice. So why are you here? What is it you need this time?"

"Screw you!" She rumbled viscously. "You skip out of the office for a week, something that you never do. Nobody seems to know where the hell you are. You leave Emmett random instructions to buy you in a Mini Cooper. You've transformed a bedroom into female heaven and now there's a toddler walking through the front door with you! Is this you going into premature meltdown with the big four zero looming ever closer or something?"

"Does Emmett know that you've been snooping through his accounts, again?" Edward's voice was mockingly pleasant.

Things went very quiet.

"I'll take that as a 'no' then." He injected. "So you've been sneaking around, usually indicative of Emmett cutting up your plastic and now you're here, unleashing that shining personality of yours onto the first unfortunate soul you come across. I'll hazard a guess, Rose… you want money?"

"We're not talking about me!" She screamed. "Who is that girl?"

"I've already told you who she is - Isabella."

"And…?" She pressed.

"And what?"

"And what the hell is she doing here?"

"_Bella_ lives here."

I smiled shyly at that.

I did live here, this was my home now. I liked it here. I quite liked the owner too, he was a good egg.

"So that's her room upstairs?"

"Yes."

"How old is she?"

"Nearly nineteen."

"_Eighteen_?" Rosalie enunciated harshly. "That's fucking perverted, Edward! Are you and her together?"

I think I actually heard his teeth smashing together – two floors up from where he was stood. I held my breath, waiting.

"_Excuse me?_"

Oh that didn't sound too good…

"What is it? You get young arm candy and she gets access to your bank balance? I take it the Mini was for her, what else has she requested, one of your kidneys?"

And that stung. Is that how people would always see me? As some parasitic leech that was out to drain Edward dry?

Oh who was I kidding, of course they would! And technically that's why I _was_ with Edward, for his money. Just not quite in the sense most would likely come to conclude.

"You know Rose, given how holier than thou you're attitude has suddenly become, I'm surprised that you can even stand to be in the same room as me. I take it you haven't come to beg the pervert for money after all?"

I think I heard her growl.

"I came here to see if you were alright!" She defended stubbornly.

"Oh," Edward said, extending the sound. "Well in that case, as you can see, both the pervert and the gold-digger are just fine. Insulted beyond belief, but otherwise fine. So you'll be on your way now that you've gotten what you came for…"

I heard footsteps fall against the wooden floor, the handle to the front door was pulled and the door opened.

"Thank you for the concern, please tell Emmett that I said hello." He was dismissing her.

_Jeez…_

Everything was quiet save for the sounds of the outside world floating through into the hallway. I heard no more footsteps.

"Rose?" Edward pushed.

The silence stretched on.

"I'm air-conditioning all of New York, Rosalie. I would like to shut my door."

"Emmett took my credit cards away from me." She admitted so quietly, I almost didn't hear the words.

"I see," Edward mocked surprise. "How unfortunate."

"Edward!" She huffed.

"Yes?"

"Can you stop being a bastard and just write me a damn check already?"

I heard the door close.

"I tell you what, Rose; I'll make you a deal. You go on upstairs and apologise profusely to Isabella and you make it damn good, and I'll write the check and leave the amount box blank. Fair?"

"Apologise for what?" She shrieked. "Telling the _truth_? I saw that photo album she's got up there, Edward! I think it's sick! What the hell are you doing with an eighteen year old girl? I can certainly see why she'd be interested in you, but what the hell is the appeal towards her? She's a nothing – you could have anyone, absolutely any _woman_ in New York! So why the sudden interest in a barely pubescent girl?"

And there was that feeling again – the feeling like 'shit'.

"Refresh my memory, Rose." Edward said darkly. "Were you or were you not pulled out of college your second year by our parents for dating a man in his fifties?"

"Yes and he was wrong for ever taking an interest in me!"

"Interesting. So because a twenty year old _adult_ threw herself at an older man with a Ferrari, _he's_ the one with a target painted on his back? It was entirely _his_ fault? I just want to be clear on this…"

"How many times do I have to say it, Edward, we aren't talking about me!" She hissed. "We're talking about this phenomenal fuck up between you and that girl - I don't get it!"

"Nobody's asking you to!" Edward suddenly roared. "It's none of your Goddamn business, Rosalie!"

"Someone sucking my brother's finances dry _is_ my business! She's making a fool out of you!"

Edward scoffed. "Is that what this is really about? The money? You're determined to storm in here and give us grief because I've spent money buying Bella a new car, while you're still licking your wounds after your husband cut you off again? Is that seriously what's gotten you so angry, Rose? You're jealous?"

"I am not jealous!" She denied venomously. "Why the hell would I _ever_ be jealous of somebody like her?"

Call me crazy, but I was getting the distinct impression that Medusa and her head of spitting snakes really didn't like me all that much.

"Oh, I don't know…" Edward sounded off. "She's young, beautiful, well-mannered, intelligent and she's being spoiled while you're sitting in your proverbial financial dog house. And that's chaffing on you, isn't it? You're not the centre of lavished attention and you don't like it. You thought that by barging in here and creating a scene, everything would just stop for you. And instead all that you've done is make yourself look incredibly stupid in front of a perfect stranger thirteen years your junior! How proud you must be."

"Do mom and dad know about her?"

"Does Emmett know that you've stolen my house key - _again_?"

_Christ._

I decided that I'd heard more than enough. I had officially reached my fill.

_Slap on the wrist for being nosy, Bella. _

Silently and erring on the side of great caution, I opened my door and slipped through, shutting it noiselessly behind me.

I felt utterly exhausted all of a sudden, I was ready to flop.

My room was stiflingly clammy so I headed straight for the window nearest my bed and cracked it open, basking in the slight breeze that greeted me. I was pleased to find that nothing looked out of place, even my photo album was neatly resting on my side table, just where I had left it, or should I say just where she had replaced it?

I pulled my bag over my head and nudged off my sandals, saying a welcomed hello to my plush carpet as it massaged my feet below. I collapsed onto the bed, curling up into the soft cotton sheets and silky throw pillows. It felt like heaven.

Unfortunately I could still hear Edward and his sister. The voices had become muffled through the barrier of my bedroom door, but they were still there – raised, angry and determined.

Sighing, I clambered off of my bed and went to switch on my iPod, finding a sweet contentment steal over me as the lush, soothing sounds of Jose Gonzalez's 'Crosses' began to pluck away through the speakers, telling me that 'you'll be alright'.

I sank back down onto my bed, glad to have drowned out the argument downstairs. I wasn't quite sure what to make of it. I felt hugely responsible in one sense, like I had caused a rift between the two siblings. But then there was also something telling me that while on the surface, it may have seemed as though the argument was centred around me, the real issue between the bickering pair ran much deeper.

Edward and I were going to need to figure out what to tell people, I didn't much like the idea of being blindsided like this again. We'd been cocooned in our bubble all week and now reality was beginning to set in. I had a feeling I was going to have to brave the storm of sneers and opinions and strengthen my backbone to people's disapproval. Something was telling me that Rosalie McCarty was only just the beginning of what was likely to become a lot of aggravation for us both.

Edward Cullen – the pervert.

Bella Swan – the gold-digger.

My, what a pair…

(*)

Something was tickling my stomach. And my ear. And my throat.

Hmmm…

Fumbling sleepily, I made a haphazard attempt to shake off the disturbance near my face and bat away the cause of the sensation from my midriff.

Another ear tickle.

And a… laugh?

I stirred, consciousness seeping its way in slowly.

My room, my window, my bed, music still playing, a light breeze wafting through the confines of my personal space, a hand on my tummy…

I flinched.

"I didn't mean to wake you." Edward whispered, kissing the delicate flesh directly behind my ear.

Oh my.

His hand was underneath my top, gently stroking the bare skin of my stomach. It was almost soothing enough to lull me back into my slumber.

Lazily I turned my face towards him, stretching my muscles out and loving how good it felt to exercise them.

He smiled affectionately down at me, his hand moving from my belly upwards to cup my face, where his thumb lightly moved over my eyebrow, my cheek, my lips.

"Hi," I croaked groggily.

His head bent down towards me, his lips delicately touching mine. "Hi."

"What time is it?"

"A little after four." Another kiss, his hand held me close to him.

After four, I'd been out for just under an hour.

I yawned. "I'm sorry, I was just so tired."

Edward chuckled softly. "If I get to see you wake up like that again, sleep all you want. You're far too precious, Miss Swan. I'm thinking about investing in a lot of cotton wool before you start college."

I smiled despite myself, playfully knocking his arm. "No cotton wool, Mr. Cullen."

He nuzzled into my throat. "How about a large, plastic bubble then?"

His mouth began to leave a trail of tiny wet kisses leading up towards my jaw. Oh it felt nice.

"No bubble."

"Mmm…" His hand moved into my hair, tilting my face further into him. I felt his nose skim along mine and I closed my eyes, savouring the feeling of being so affected by this man.

I actually felt very proud of myself for being able to absorb Edward in this sense. I didn't feel the overwhelming need to go running for the hills, to cringe and pull away. I didn't feel as though I was being burned. I found that I was really quite comfortable _taking_ comfort from Edward. I didn't know what it was about him that made me okay to do so, the thought of it being any other man touching me in such an intimate manner made me want to shudder violently. Perhaps it came down to trust. Edward had been so in tune with me all week, like he could sense my limitations or something. He hadn't once pushed too far or made me uncomfortable and I was beginning to trust in his approach to physical handling.

"You are so lovely, Bella."

I opened my eyes to find him gazing down at me, almost adoringly. His green orbs were deep, bright and honest.

I squirmed. Progress was a one step at a time kind of thing, right?

"And you still don't see it." He sighed, pressing his forehead to mine.

I felt Edward's hand move slowly from my face and travel down to my waist, where his fingers squeezed and pressed me to him.

"Is everything okay?" I asked hesitantly.

I felt him tense.

"Everything's fine now." He kissed the corner of my mouth.

I found that hard to believe after everything I had heard.

Edward's lips gently pressed to mine. It was so innocently sweet yet it sent a bolt of something that felt like electricity through me. His eyes flashed to mine, lips hovering, his breath vibrating against my sensitive flesh. It was almost as if he was asking permission. I gave a slight nod.

I felt his mouth press firmly down, his hand on my waist tightened, making my body lift slightly into him. I placed my hands tentatively onto his shoulders, feeling them flex beneath me. They were so hard, strong – manly. I could _feel_ his muscles working. There was something incredibly sensual about the whole thing - about being small and female and utterly cocooned within a strong, male embrace. It was like ying and yang, like opposite ends of the weighing scales that for some bizarre reason, weighed up equally and fit just so.

Oh, I liked it. I'd never known it could feel so good. Nearly five weeks had passed by since I'd created that profile and not once had I ever thought I could feel like _this_.

The glide of his wet tongue snaking out to trace my bottom lip thawed me completely. I sank into him, moving my fingers into his hair and pulling on it. I opened my mouth a little and tongue met tongue.

Edward shifted, his body coming to linger and align above mine. I felt oh so tiny and safe and wanted beneath him. I felt protected, like nothing could reach me here, with Edward. My cocoon of safety.

His tongue was teasing against my own, slow and tantalising in its dancing rhythm. It felt like sparks going off every time he withdrew only to reconnect. I could taste butter mints. I could smell his cologne. I could feel him.

It was like system overload.

Edward's hand moved down to my hip, where his fingers brushed aside the material of my top to meet with my bare skin. He began making a pattern of ticklish circles over the bone before flattening his hand across my tummy. His entire span covered the width of my stomach.

I broke the kiss, desperate for air and feeling a little dizzy. The weight of his hand against my rapidly rising and falling belly felt strange, but not in a bad way. It was flesh on flesh, his warmth on mine, transferring heat and touch.

Edward's eyes were trained directly on his hand, watching as I made it move up and down.

"You feel incredible." His eyes flickered up to meet mine.

"Edward, we need to talk about what happened." I said breathlessly.

"Like I said, incredible." He winked cheekily.

"Not what I meant," I batted his hand away, trying not to giggle. "I heard a little…"

He sighed, sitting himself up against the headboard. He pulled my head into him so that it was positioned over his lower stomach. His fingers wound their way into my tresses.

"How much did you hear?"

Did I tell him that I had been listening? No, no I didn't want to do that. It's not something that I would normally have done; I understood how important personal privacy was. I had just been intrigued to hear his answer, to hear him explain who I was and why I was here. I mean, that's something that I too would need to know, yes? But I didn't want Edward thinking that I was a snoop after he'd chastised his sister for doing just that.

Perhaps a half lie?

"Um… I heard her asking you if your parents knew. I turned the music on after that."

He cocked his head, angling it to get a better look at me. His eyes were piercingly green and intense.

"Rosalie is… a complicated person, Bella. She's my sister and I love her dearly, but she doesn't necessarily make it _easy_ to love her at times, does that make sense?"

I snorted.

Had he forgotten who he was talking to? That was, in a sense, exactly how I felt about my parents. I knew that I should love them, but I found it difficult. They made it _hard_ to; they had never taught me the how. But they were still my family at the end of the day and there would always be that obligation to love them and an overwhelming sense of guilt if I didn't. I _think_ I loved them…

Yes, it made perfect sense to me.

"I think you understand." Edward whispered, giving me a sad, half smile.

I shrugged. I didn't want to get into it. Past was past.

"Rose is a bit of an enigma, she always had been. I often liken her to a Rubik's cube. Every time that you think you have her colours finally pegged, one part of the arrangement goes wrong and you either have to start from scratch or spend hours figuring out where you made a mistake. The puzzle can be incredibly time consuming and frustrating, so a lot of the time it's easier to just admit defeat."

I could relate to that, I often felt that way about people in general. I could never figure them out. The world's population was one big riddle to me and I was often lacking in the clues department.

"I know that you probably feel as though she was attacking you and you have every right to feel that way. I know that her behaviour was inexcusable, Bella, and I will not for one moment condone it or allow her to treat you that way. But I do want to make it clear that her attitude towards you was not singular. I've seen Rosalie reduce grown men to tears within seconds using only three words. She has a way about her and even after thirty-one years of knowing her, I still can't say that I 'get' her. I've certainly found ways to _manage_ her, but Rose is Rose and there is no changing her. She is how she is. There is absolutely no rhyme or reason to her manner. She's a bit of a lottery – you hope for the best."

I bit my lip, not quite sure how to approach the subject. I didn't want to offend Edward in any way, she was his sister, but what exactly was I supposed to say? 'Yeah, she's a real treat. I wish I had ten just like her.'

Maybe not.

Diplomacy was probably the best policy.

"Why was she so angry?"

Edward's fingers began tracing the outline of my ear.

"I've told you that Rose is married?"

I nodded. "To Emmett."

"That's right." Edward shifted, pushing my shoulders up gently and then pulling me onto him so that I was tucked into his arms. I buried my face into the crook of his neck. I loved Edward's 'smell'.

"Rose and Emmett have a very tumultuous relationship. What started out as absolute adoration on Emmett's part soon turned into a rather harsh wake up call. My parents indulged her too much as a child. She's grown up spoiled and with no solid awareness of real life. Money grows on trees in Rosalie's world and she's never worked a day in her life. She never will. It took Emmett a little while to see things clearly and when he did finally start putting his foot down, Rose didn't react well."

"They don't get along?" I hazarded a guess.

"I think like most people who are close to my sister, he's learned how to deal with her, Bella. It's not easy. She can be a very trying. My parents never agreed to the match, they found Emmett too average I suppose. Not good enough for their daughter. Truthfully, he's about as decent as they come; he has a lot of time for people. I think you'll really like him, there aren't many people who don't." He kissed the side of my head. "But everybody has limits and Rose sure as hell knows how to push them. If she wakes up one morning and suddenly decides that she wants a pony, she wants it by lunchtime. It took Emmett a couple of years to learn how to say no. I think today may well have been a 'no' day and well, you saw the result firsthand."

I squashed down my bemusement, a factor I was sure would always correlate with Rosalie McCarty, the thirty-two year old sounding toddler. What I wanted to know was what any of that had to do with Edward and I? What he was explaining sounded like a problem between husband and wife.

"So why was she here and why so angry with you?"

Edward swiped a hand roughly over his face. "If the ATM won't give you cash, but you know that there's money in there somewhere, what do you do? You go to the bank, the source, if you will. Emmett's the ATM, I'm the source. I don't think she much cared for walking in to find a certain young beauty at the front of the line before her."

Oh.

"She's mad because I'm here taking your money?"

That made sense. She was probably just protective of her brother. Granted her approach had been less than civil, but I could certainly understand the colourful reception if that was the case. While Edward and I knew the truth behind our arrangement, nobody else did. People were bound to jump to their own conclusions. I mean, let's face facts; it didn't exactly look good, did it? We were both sliding easily into appearance based stereotypes.

Edward raised his eyebrows sardonically. "Miss Swan, when have you ever _taken_ my money? I've just had to ship your car in sneakily to avoid an argument. I sincerely wish that you _would_ just start taking it."

I rolled my eyes.

_Not going to happen buddy._

"Rose is fundamentally a very selfish, jealous being. I think she's threatened by you more than anything, Bella. She's stormed in here on a bad day only to find someone much younger and prettier up on a pedestal that she's never been able to reach. It ruffled her feathers and she reacted in the only way that she knows how – she opened her mouth."

I started laughing.

"Edward, are you honestly trying to tell me that she's mad because she feels like I'm peeing on her territory or something like that?"

Completely ridiculous! And why on earth would a woman like her ever feel threatened by somebody as inconsequential as me? For heaven's sake!

Edward smirked down at me. "Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying. Rose doesn't like when things are out of her control, she hates surprises and anything that doesn't benefit her. You being here with me _doesn't_ benefit her, Bella. She's probably worried that her personal bank branch is about to close and open up to you instead. And for the record, this is your territory, not hers."

Before I could respond, the home phone that was sat on my desk began to ring shrilly. The echoing chimes of every other handset within the house soon followed.

Edward kissed my forehead before placing me back down on the bed and strode over to retrieve the racket-machine.

"Hello?"

I watched as his entire face scrunched up, wincing.

"Yes, she was…" His eyes flickered over to me. "No, she's alright… there's no need to apologise, no I know that you didn't give it to her… Hmmm… just give me a sec."

I scooted to the edge of my bed and stretched my hands upwards. I wanted to moan when I felt my back cracking lightly.

"Bella?"

I glanced over.

"I need to take this sweetheart. Are you still tired? You can go back to sleep if you want, I can come and wake you up in an hour?"

I shook my head. I didn't want to sleep the rest of the day away.

"Do you mind if I take a bath?"

He gave me a 'look' and I put my hands up in a surrendering gesture.

"Sorry, sorry! I'm _going_ to take a bath."

Edward walked over and bent to give me a kiss.

"Much better." He winked.

I made my way into his, no – _our_ bathroom just as he walked from my room. I set the plug into place and watched as the hot water began to gush from the facet and fill the tub. I would quite happily live out the rest of my days in the large, circular shaped bathtub. It had Jacuzzi jets. Enough said.

I added a generous amount of jasmine scented bath oil and went to brush my teeth.

The week's worth of sun had given my consistently pale complexion a light, healthy glow. It surprised me actually, just how well I was looking. My normally dull brown eyes were bright and alive and instead of the dark orbs washing out my pasty skin they now seemed to warm and soften my face. My hair, even in the birds nest state that it was, looked shiny and had a definite bounce to it. I had even put on a little weight. Not much but definitely a couple of well needed pounds. New York was agreeing with me.

I finished brushing, stripped off my clothes and clambered into the bath, much too impatient to wait until it had filled. I toed the stainless steel tap and revelled in the calm that washed over me. I needed this. The day's events had certainly been a little on the overwhelming side, what with the tall, scary building followed by the tall, scary sibling.

I sunk further into the water, gladly putting the festivities on temporary hold.

(*)

I dressed myself casually in a pair a light wash, ripped jeans, a V-neck white T and my black flats. I'd brushed, dried and plaited my hair messily and felt thoroughly refreshed. The muggy heat added to the city's lingering dirty air could make you feel somewhat grimy at times and I'd gotten into the habit of bathing or showering twice a day. I couldn't figure out why Edward did this initially, but after a couple of days here it made sense. Your whites didn't stay white for very long in New York.

I padded my way downstairs in search of Edward, stopping on the first floor to check his study, the ground floor to check his workroom and finally clambering down to the kitchen. I smiled when I heard his voice and figured he was still on the telephone, but when an angry female voice countered his words, I stopped short.

Oh no…

_Please don't say she's back, please don't say she's back, please don't say she's back!_

"… Cannot believe her audacity! Did she scare Bella? I swear to God Edward, if she's set that poor girl back I'll throttle the vapid bitch myself!"

"No, I don't think so." Edward responded quietly. "She seemed okay when I went up. I tried to get her out of earshot as soon as I could but by the sounds of things she heard quite a bit regardless."

Somebody snorted. "I'd be surprised if three doors down didn't hear, Rose isn't exactly known for her volume control."

The voice was unknown but distinctly male.

"The hell with volume control, she needs an 'off' button!" The female snapped. "Did she say much to Bella?"

"I didn't let it get that far. She was rude, probably shocked Bella with her attitude more than anything, but I wasn't prepared to keep her downstairs only to be awarded a Rosalie special."

"Edward, I'm so sorry. I don't know how she keeps finding the damn key!" A new male sounded off.

"It's not your fault, Em. Rose is just… Rose." Edward sighed. "I wouldn't have been so angry if she'd just stayed out of Bella's room. She's only been here a week and already had a space that I wanted to make just hers completely invaded by a perfect stranger. Christ only knows how she feels about that particular sufferance."

"Hey," the female cooed soothingly. "Edward, Bella will _know_ how much work you put into making that room perfect for her. I'm sure she treasures it and even though the idea of Rose snooping around probably gave her the chills, she'll always love that room regardless."

"Vick's right Ed, and besides Bella doesn't sound like the type to dwell. It probably freaked her out a little initially but she won't focus on it." The first male voice reassured.

"You think she's really alright?" The second male asked worriedly. "Sounds like you both had an amazing week."

"We did." Edward said happily. "She's settling well, I think. She took herself out to find The Strand on Thursday," he chuckled. "Gone all day. I came back to an empty house and nearly had a heart attack. But in she came, lugging bags of books and completely in her element. She even bought me one; I nearly fainted when I saw it. It's not even in print anymore; I think Columbia had a really old first edition copy of it in their rare books section when I was there. Here only five days and off she went. I thought she'd maybe chance exploring somewhere closer to home, you know? But not Bella, straight on up to Union Square."

There was a round of amused laughter and it reminded me suddenly that I was listening in – again.

_Second slap on the wrist for Bella! _

I wasn't quite sure what to do. Did I go in or should I run back to my room? I didn't think I could handle anymore drama; my nerves had been frayed enough for one day. They sounded friendly, but what if Edward wanted to speak to them privately? I didn't want to overstep. Maybe I should just pop my head in and, I don't know, say hello? What was the correct etiquette?

I fidgeted nervously, feeling inadequate. I wasn't dressed fancy, what if I embarrassed him in front of his guests? Should I go up and change first? What was Edward wearing today?

I wracked my brain.

This morning's table incident popped unbidden into my mind. Jeans and a polo shirt.

Maybe I would be ok?

I mean, he knew that I'd gone in for a bath. I had been up there for just short of an hour; he would be expecting me to come down at some point, wouldn't he?

Oh Lord!

_Just do it Bella! One foot in front of the other!_

Taking a deep breath, I squared my shoulders and took the few steps towards the arched doorway and through it.

They were all settled around the large breakfast bar, none of them had noticed my appearance. Edward looked carefree and young among these people who I assumed to be his friends. The woman was slight, dressed in cream coloured pants and a red silky camisole. She had the most magnificent head of fiery red hair and her milky skin was lightly dusted with freckles. She had two, strong, well toned arms wrapped around her, though I couldn't quite make out the man that they belonged to. They were both standing up, but bent slightly over the bar. Next to them was The Hulk incarnate, minus the green skin. Huge didn't seem to quite cover his vast size. Dressed in baggy jeans and a black wife beater, his arms were laid bare to dirty grease marks and bold, black tribal tattoos.

It was Goliath who noticed me.

Silvery blue eyes flickered up in my direction and everything seemed to go very still. The hands that had been supporting his colossal weight on the countertop pushed away and he smiled slowly at me, almost as if he was scared that I would bolt from the room like a frightened doe.

It was like a domino effect after that.

The woman saw me next, her eyes a flash of sparkling hazel. She gasped out and 'oh!' and stood up straighter, lightly smacking her partner's chest to get his attention. I barely noticed him before Edward was spinning around in his seat to face me.

I bit my lip, locking my fingers together and repeatedly making pretzel shapes out of them.

"Feel better?" He asked softly.

I nodded quickly, feeling awkward and out of place.

Edward smiled warmly at me, though I only really had eyes for the three strangers stood in the kitchen with him.

"Bella, this is Victoria, James and Emmett. Everyone, this is Bella." There was a distinct note of pride in his voice when he said my name.

My eyes snapped to the first man. The man with the redhead. James.

That sounded oddly familiar.

Did I know a James?

No, no I didn't.

But I had heard it somewhere before.

He had a gentle face I thought. He looked a little older, a bit like Edward with his laughter lines around his eyes, but there was something youthfully handsome about him too. _Just_ like Edward. He was perhaps an inch shorter and had the same lithe yet muscular toning as him. His hair was a shock of golden blonde and his eyes were the colour of a summer blue sea. A definite contrast to Edward's bronze and green.

I didn't recognise him, but the name… _James_?

And then it clicked.

_Oh holy mother of God…_

The awkward just got kicked up a notch or nine.

And before I could stop myself, I was staring him directly in the eye and asking, "The nuisance?"

The woman, Victoria, immediately started giggling. Edward threw me a proud grin just as James mocked a hurt look, holding a hand dramatically over his heart.

"You wound me, Edward! How many years have we been friends and that is how you introduce me to others?"

"Damn straight, you're a pain in my ass!" Edward beamed as he came over and wrapped an arm around my shoulders, lightly kissing my temple.

I wasn't quite sure whether to feel completely mortified or to thank this James man profusely for passing on my profile. I was being split in half, embarrassment vs. gratitude. This man had seen my profile – seen it before Edward and then sent it to him. He knew where I came from. He knew what I had asked for.

Did I bury my face in shame or kiss his feet for irrevocably changing my life for the better?

I swallowed. I was at a complete loss.

Sensing my trepidation, Edward gave me a reassuring squeeze.

"Is the rabble staying for dinner?" He asked them teasingly.

The big man, Emmett, went to speak but Victoria cut him off, smiling kindly at me.

"_Only_ if that's alright with you two? We would love to catch up but understand if it'd be best left for another day."

"We bought steak, figured we could barbeque and do some manly shit with fire." James smirked.

Victoria huffed. "You're not allowed to play with fire anymore, we've talked about this! Edward's only just replaced the damn barbeque that you and Emmett blew up the last time and I didn't appreciate having to introduce you to friends when you had no eyebrows!"

"It was his fault," Emmett argued. "_I_ didn't know that he'd already added the gas!"

"The neighbours thought a bomb had gone off! No touching the barbeque, either of you," she turned to wag a finger between the two now pouting men.

I laughed despite myself, drawing their attention.

"Why don't you go set up, we'll be out in a minute." Edward said, the amusement clear in his tone. "And if you break my barbeque this time, I'm going to break fingers."

They walked out through the patio doors, shopping bags in tow and arguing about whose fault the arson really was. I was leaning towards Gargantuan-The-Great; he had a distinctive naughty twinkle in his eye.

"How's my little one holding up?"

I peeked up at Edward, my lip felt tenderly swollen from worrying it so.

"He knows." It wasn't a question, it didn't need to be. "He knows where I came from."

"They all do," he replied honestly. "And I don't want you sinking into that dark place you go to, Bella. They've all been dying to meet you."

I looked away.

_All of them?_

"What must they think of me?" I whispered.

A few choice words sprung to mind, none of them pleasant.

"They think that you're an incredibly brave young woman and respect your determination, Bella. There aren't many who would have had the guts or the drive to do what you did."

I snorted.

"Something you'd like to add?" He rebuked firmly.

_Plenty!_ I thought dryly, shaking my head.

"Bella, I'm not going to stand here and watch you tie yourself up in knots. They don't care where you came from or what you did to get here; they've been really looking forward to meeting you. I've just spent an hour effectively telling my sister where she can stick her opinions and another hour trying to calm the three raging bulls that came rushing over here to make sure you were alright. Please stop doing this to yourself; we've had such a nice week."

_Third slap on the wrist for Bella. _

I wasn't doing a very good job of making him happy, was I?

But did they honestly not _mind_? On the surface they all seemed pleasant, but should I expect their amiability to morph into a mass of hissing snake heads as soon as Edward's back was turned? Would they go all Western on my ass and demand I skip town?

Edward sighed, wrapping his arms around me.

"I'm overwhelming you, aren't I? I keep forgetting that you've only been here a week. I can ask them to go, they really won't mind. We hadn't planned for them to come over and I don't want you feeling uncomfortable." He nuzzled his nose into my hair. "But you need to stop thinking so lowly of yourself. I hate that you do."

"I'm sorry," I murmured. "I don't want them to go, I just… it's strange. I thought that maybe they would, I don't know, judge me? I think I'd judge me if I were in their shoes."

It was Edward's turn to snort. "Bella, Vicky spent all of her free time before you got here running around buying accessories for your room to make it feel homelier. The woman actually flooded my office at work in fabric swatches and lived off of nothing but coffee for several days. James used just about every illegal cyber hole he could think of to completely eradicate your internet history relating to that site, including hunting down anybody who saved your information, so you're profile is long gone now. And Emmett's just spent the last few days pulling your brand new Mini apart and doing God only knows what to it. I think it's safe to say that you now have the latest tech gadgets and security system fitted into it though. They didn't do any of that for me – they did it for you."

"But… _why_?"

His pointer finger hooked under my chin and raised my face to meet his. "Because some people deserve a break in this life, Bella, and we all happen to think that you're very deserving of one."

(*)

It had been a wonderful evening, one of my best yet, in fact. Never had any four people made me feel so at home and so welcome. But I think I liked the three newcomers so much because having watched them interacting with Edward, it became clear to me that no man had ever had such good friends. They cared a great deal for him. They really, truly did.

Emmett was _fun_. Once we had gotten past the 'my wife's a troll, please excuse her' apologies, the jollies began. He had a fantastically witty sense of humour and was quick to the draw with his comebacks. I learned that he was a mechanic and owned his own garage, specialising in classical car and truck renovations. At one point, he had thrown me a cheeky wink just as Edward came back out to the garden, and started rattling off design ideas for my 'first tattoo'. Edward's face had paled to near transparency and he'd threatened Emmett with loss of limbs if my 'perfect skin was so much as punctured by a tattoo needle'.

James was very sweet but razor-sharp, there wasn't much that got by him. It was evident that he loved Victoria a great deal and it was actually a little heart-warming to be around a couple who were so comfortable with each other. He had worked alongside Edward ever since finishing college eleven years ago and was unmistakably loyal to him. He and Vicky had been dating for four years and at thirty-five, he had plenty of relatable stories to tell regarding their ten year age gap. I'd found myself absorbed in them, my earlier unease being replaced with an odd sort of circumstantial comradeship.

Victoria blew me away with her kindness. She was simply lovely. The way she policed the 'boys' was highly amusing. She worked in Edward's HR department; a job that James had quipped was perfect for her nosy tendencies. That had earned him the loss of his steak to Emmett. She had given me the biggest hug before they all left; her sweetly feminine, floral scent had been strangely comforting and the woman just radiated warmth. She'd told me that I was good for Edward and that she couldn't wait to get to know me better.

Edward had, simply put, been on cloud nine where nothing could touch him by the end of the night. This was further highlighted the following morning when I woke up to find Tiffany turquoise box adorning my pillow. Inside had been a heart shaped padlock charm with one single word etched into the shiny silver.

And I knew, without a single doubt, that the word was not a reflection of my feelings, but of his.

The word was 'happy'.

* * *

**Facebook – 'Positively Fourth Street' for teasers/general filth. **

**Thank you again to everybody who offered their assistance with the French translations, I've bagged myself lots of help! Apologies if I still haven't gotten back to you, I'm not being rude I've just had a lot of highly irritating roadblocks recently. **

**James and Vicky – good guys. Not without human fault, but good. You can quell the worry ;)**

**Update – week to two?**


	13. Chapter 13

**Stephanie Meyer owns Twilight, no copyright infringement intended. **

**To Kat – this chapter would never have happened without you! Thank you so, so much for your continued support and pick-me-up's, not to mention all of the incredibly hard work you put into making this story readable! You're the best!**

**My gratitude goes out to Jenn for her helpfulness, and to my wonderful girls for brightening my days. **

**Massively large thanks to everybody who continues to read, review and rec the story. My sincerest apologies for not responding to many of your lovely comments, it's been a little stressful here the last few weeks.**

**Apologies for the wait, stuff gets in the way and I'm too much of a damn perfectionist to not research the crap out of stuff – which takes far too much time. Gah!**

**This one was too long, so it's been split. Part one of two 'companion' chapters. I hope you enjoy :)**

* * *

"… Nevertheless, there's the curiosity thing. I guess it's another one of those car crash experiences, where you feel compelled to look even if you know you'll be horrified."

~ Janet Evanovich

_Chapter Thirteen_

If you could measure the amount of stress that you, as an ordinary human being could handle in a week, what would your absolute limit be? How much would you have to endure before your mind finally held up its hands in surrender and said, 'the hell with this, I'm out'? Could you put a number to the amount of crap you could mentally put up with before that annoying little nervous twitch in your left eye presented itself? How severe would annoyances have to be until you cracked and what would they be?

Your cat using your brand new Italian silk sofa as a scratching post?

Being late for work Monday morning only to find that some thug has slashed your back tires?

Pulling your delicate whites from the washing machine only to find that your darling child's red soccer sock had somehow found its way in there too?

Having your heater blow up while there's snow on the ground?

The sale of your house falling through days before you're due to move?

Finding your beloved partner in bed with your best friend?

Forecast sunshine turning into pelting rain on the day of your outdoor wedding?

Witnessing your child being bullied and knowing that you absolutely _cannot_ maim the little turd who's beaten them up?

Sleeping in when the clocks go forward?

The mortification of knowing that your weekly weigh in at Weight Watchers is fast approaching having just devoured an entire bucket of KFC's finest 'heart attack waiting to happen'?

Really, when you put your mind to it and think hard, just how much stress can you, as an everyday 'normal' person, cope with in a week?

It had been only six days since my introduction to Rosalie McCarty and the past four had been complete hell.

In a matter of only four days I had been subjected to a near concussion, a very bruised nose, a walk that could rival that of a pregnant penguin, a rather rude not-so-welcoming reception from many of my college lecturers, my personal details being leaked to the architecture students at Columbia, a French professor who seemingly lived for embarrassing the hell out of me, a swim test that had terrified the crap out of my not-such-a-confident-swimmer self, and a naked she-man sticking his/her junk in my face on the subway.

Oh, and I had seen Edward's penis.

Suffice to say that I was somewhat glad Friday was finally wrapping up. At least I was, you know, before I arrived home with Vicky after our late afternoon shopping spree to find that Rosalie McCarty was once again in the house. Only this time, she brought reinforcements.

Again I have to ask, at what point do _your_ stress levels max themselves out? Because mine were seriously about to go kaput…

(*)

Everything had been going so, so well. Minus the troll invasion on Saturday, things had been pretty damn perfect. My mind had been buzzing with questions, questions about the rude sister, questions about Edward's family life, questions about his friends and how they came to know of me and why they were all so cool-headed about the arrangement. But on Sunday Edward and I left the city's confines and had taken my new charcoal coloured Mini Convertible out and about. I'd found that there was something entirely too thrilling about driving it. With the top down, the music blaring and the late summer sunshine warming us, it had been the best drive of my life. And when Fleetwood Mac's 'The Chain' had started its slow building beat through the immense speakers, Edward had squeezed my knee and I'd punched the gas fully, revelling in the feel of my hair catching the wind and whipping around my face as the perfectly sexy music picked up speed, spurring me on and freeing me from all troubling thoughts. It had been exhilarating!

On Sunday evening Vicky, James and Emmett had come back over to the house for dinner again. We had all sat out in Edward's little backyard oasis with the sound of water from the white marble fountain pouring and sloshing away gently in the background. We made cocktails and sipped them over tapas while Emmett vented his frustrations with his wife. I felt sad for him. He didn't appear to ever want to go home – to her. Edward said that Emmett spent a lot of time with friends after work, only opting to go home when everybody finally called it a night. I think Emmett was in many ways, stuck between a rock and a hard place. I got the distinct impression that he cared a great deal for Rosalie, but as Edward had explained, loving her wasn't always an easy task. I was leaning towards the assumption that he was still with her and hoping to reignite that spark that he'd felt when they first met, the one that made her shine the brightest of all the stars in his world. Emmett McCarty seemed to be very much torn between wanting his previous adoration for his wife back and admitting that she was the green character trapped underneath the fallen house. It couldn't be easy for him.

I'd found myself snuggled up on Edward's lap for most of the evening, a place I was finding I liked to be. Edward seemed to have a preference for putting me there, his hands would automatically reach out for me whenever I walked past and he'd bring me down onto him. I think we both enjoyed the innocent closeness.

All questions were again, put on the back burner while I enjoyed my evening of feeling comfortable among… _friends_.

Monday brought with it Labor Day and with Columbia closed for the holiday, I'd decided to hit the pavement to get acquainted with my travel to and from campus. Edward had to get back to the office to prepare for a new project, not that that had stopped his incessant barrage of check-up calls. I'd visited a branch of Barnes and Noble to purchase a couple of books that had been hastily added to my required reading list, and printed out and filed everything that I would need for beginning my classes. I was ready and raring to go. I'd called Ang that afternoon, delighted to hear the familiar voice of my best friend who was so far away. She had settled into her dorm well and made a lot of new friends. It warmed me to know that she was doing alright and enjoying her experience so far.

All questions were soon forgotten amidst the rush of college preparations.

On Tuesday September 7th I woke feeling nervously happy about starting my college life. It had been my dream for years and I had finally achieved it. I was ripe with anxious anticipation, desperate for the day to be a good one.

Tiffany was waiting for me; inside the box was a silver four leafed clover charm. I attached it thinking that a bit of good luck never hurt. I didn't once think to consider that maybe I should take it as an omen: you'll need all the luck you can get!

In my excited rush to start the day, I scrambled out of bed, got myself caught up in the sheets and landed unceremoniously onto the floor with a thud. I thought nothing of it and decided to worry about bruising later.

I snatched up my kimono, skipped my way over to the en-suite bathroom door and pushed it open. When the damp fog of fresh steam hit my face, I stopped dead in my tracks and looked up.

I shouldn't have done that.

The sight that met my eyes would probably plague my thoughts like a haunting dream for the foreseeable future. It left me gaping, frozen in place.

Inner, in all of her wonderful worldly wisdom, began snickering from behind her sandbag barricade and cranked up Paula Cole's 'Feelin' Love', setting it to full volume.

_You are SO on your own with this one, Swan!_ She cackled, reclining back to enjoy what was likely to become a complete horror show.

Through the misted air of the bathroom, my vision honed in on… Edward. _All_ of Edward. Fresh from his shower and naked as the day he was born. His back was to me, his strong arms flexing repeatedly as he rubbed his white cotton towel roughly over his shoulders, his chest, his stomach, down to his…

_Oh…_

… _God!_

Every inch of him rippled tautly as he moved, the muscles contracting and barely relaxing as they continuously stretched and worked. His back was wide, masculine – powerful looking. The beaded droplets of water still caught up in his hair fell one by one onto his shoulders and neck with a noiseless splat, trickling teasingly down to the curve of his spine, all the way down, down, down until they reached…

I think my jaw hit the floor.

Whatever happened to small mercies?

Edward's ass. I was staring at Edward Cullen's ass. His. Wet. Naked. Ass.

_You could bounce nickels off of that hiney! _Hussy kicked out her legs gleefully. She was front row and centre wearing her Thigh God goggles, oblivious to all but the naked 7:00AM showing.

Kill me now.

My face flamed hotter than it ever had before. It made me feel faint, dizzied from the sudden blood rush.

Edward Cullen's round, smooth, perfectly sculpted, tightening-with-every-single-one-of his-movements _ass_.

I had to leave.

An ass that curved deliciously until it touched the tops of his… _thighs_.

I gulped.

It was too hot in here.

Why was it so hot?

And I couldn't move.

Why me?

_Christ!_

My legs felt as though they were weighted in cement. I could _not_ move them. I hurriedly glanced down at them, wondering if maybe there was something outwardly wrong.

Nothing. They were… fine.

_You call this fine? Get out!_

My eyes flickered back up.

Athletic, well defined, I-couldn't-even-wrap-two-hands-around-those-and-touch-my-fingertips-together thighs. I could just make out a light dusting of fair hair gracing the tops. They exuded strength, two boa constrictors that could squeeze and pull and leave you listless, devoid of any real pallet.

I inadvertently licked my lips.

My, he was magnificent. Almost Herculean in his bare, natural form.

I really, really needed to leave.

Not a single blemish marred his skin. He was just perfect. Utterly perfect. I'd seen airbrushed underwear models on billboards up in Times Square whose physiques didn't touch this man's. How could that be? Surely there should at least be a bruise, a hidden zit, saggy skin, _something_? But no. Just perfect. Thirty-nine years old and his entire body looked healthier than mine at not even nineteen.

It wasn't fair.

And he had called me a dangerous creature? I felt sorry for any past females that had had this unleashed upon them.

His legs were manly, well shaped and confident in their stance. He didn't even wobble as he continued rubbing himself dry. I always wobbled.

I watched, fascinated, as he slowly lifted one leg and then the other, drying all traces of water from the knee to his ankle. No wobble. Perfect balance. Just perfect – again.

_Must_ _leave_, Bella!

I couldn't seem to look away. I was enraptured.

Until he bent over… giving his ankles and feet a final swipe, then rubbing the towel through his hair…

And I was officially going to peeping Tom hell.

I could see between his legs.

Oh my poor, innocent eyes.

I didn't need to see that!

_You didn't need to see any of it!_

Dangling it was – in the flesh! Dangling and… _swinging_ with his movements.

_My EYES!_

I scrunched them closed, opened my mouth and cringingly let out a noiseless 'eeeee' sound.

Why me? _Why_?

How in the name of _God_ was I supposed to explain this if caught?

My eyes snapped open and frantically began searching the bathroom, for what I didn't quite know. A gun, perhaps?

My vision once again shifted over to Edward. He still hadn't noticed me. This was good. I could slip out before he was any the wiser. Simple, yes? I could slip out, bleach my brain, forget the whole thing and neither of us would know anything.

I'd seen his… his… _oh_ _God_. It was _swaying_.

I wanted to stamp up and down squealing, hands flailing and all sorts as I continued to die a little more inside from mortification.

Needed to leave!

But just as my legs finally decided to play ball, Edward began to turn.

I wanted to sob. I really, truly did.

This was not how I saw this day starting. This was supposed to be a _good_ day. This was supposed to be the best damn day of my life. And what happens? A peep show full of penis! Gold star for Swan!

The colossal weight of the situation buckled down on top of me as I was awarded a near full frontal. And in my panicked, not-so-sane-Swan state, my only reaction was to violently smack my hands over my eyes quickly to avoid the sight.

I let out an agonised 'OW!' just as my eyes began to protest against the force of my fingers, watering and stinging instantly.

Oh it hurt! So, so much.

"Jesus, Bella!"

Paula stopped immediately, being cut off like an old record.

On came Carly Simon's 'You're So Vain', only the lyrics had been replaced with, 'you're so screwed… I bet you thought he wouldn't have caught you, don't you, don't you…'

_Just fabulous!_

"How long have you been standing there?" Edward asked breathlessly.

_Long enough to see the evident differences between my lady and your gentleman!_

I think I'd seriously damaged my retinas.

Fearing that he wouldn't exactly appreciate a cheerful, 'Morning, Edward! So how are you?', I made a now-blind attempt to get the hell out quickly.

But the tiled floor was slick from the steam of the shower. So in my haste to make a speedy, but still blind, exit, I started to do a one-eighty only to find that my feet could find absolutely no grip. They just kept slipping round and round as I repeatedly chanted my sincerest apologies to Edward.

"Bella, stop! You'll hurt yourself!"

It all happened so quickly…

I felt my body arch backwards suddenly; the sensation of freefalling began to tickle its way up my spine as my non-existent balance shifted from the soles of my feet into nothingness.

I yelped and threw out my hands, no longer able to blink or see properly. Everything was just a large, stinging blur. My hands flailed in a way that I could only describe as cartoonish and I'm sure that were Edward not the kindly man that he was, he'd be desperate to capture this special Kodak moment on film.

As my hands continued to flap about, I violently lunged myself forward, desperate to keep myself upright instead of sprawled out on the floor on my ass. I didn't exactly need to add to the embarrassment, after all.

And had my eyes been working, perhaps I would have seen the solid wood doorframe that was right in front of me. Perhaps if I had seen it, I could have swerved or ducked or something. Perhaps if I had seen it, the embarrassment I was already feeling would have simply stayed at an all time 'humiliated to the point of never being able to look that man in the eye – ever again'.

But as it was, Edward's penis had snatched away my sight, so I saw _frig_ _all_!

The only indication I had of that damn doorframe being directly in my line of movement was when it decided to re-introduce its presence… to my face.

And naturally, the sheer _agony_ I started to experience could not have just stopped there. Oh no, no.

My knees buckled and my feet slipped from under me, making me do some messed up Michael Jackson splits move all the way down to the floor.

So there you have it. Bella Swan's life in less than twenty seconds.

I was mortified to the point of probably needing therapy.

My eyes felt like they had been washed in pepper spray and were threatening permanent blindness.

My nose felt like it no longer had bones in it.

I could taste blood on my lips.

And I think I'd broken my vagina.

Not such a gold star day after all. Definitely more of a bronze…

I did the only thing my now mangled body would allow; I screamed.

"Christ!" Edward rushed to me, a faint blur of white cotton wrapped around his waist but his chiselled chest on full display.

_Don't look, don't look! You'll probably die!_

He bent down, hands lightly grasping my face, turning it towards him and frantically taking inventory. "Oh Bella, your nose…"

I could vaguely make out red splatters dripping and landing onto his fingers.

Bleurgh!

I reeled my head backward suddenly, desperately trying to avoid the red.

My skull cracked into the doorframe.

Just… ow.

I was officially feeling woozy.

Edward let out a long list of vulgar expletives that I'd never have known he had in him.

"Bella, bend your head forward and pinch you nose."

Bend my what and pinch my who?

Was he _talking_?

"Eh?" Was my intelligent response. My eyes were still alternating blinks, seemingly without much instruction from yours truly.

"We need to stop the bleeding, here." He began gently easing my head forward, but my neck didn't want to cooperate. My entire head fell sideways… into the doorframe… again.

I screamed… again.

_The pain! _

Edward's hands were all over my face, trying to correct positioning. But there was blood everywhere, causing his fingers to continuously slip and release my head - back into the _solid_ chunk of wood.

Please allow me a. For. God. Sake.

I was going to land myself in the emergency room at this rate, sans skull.

I haphazardly slapped at Edward's hands with slightly more enthusiasm than my body should probably have granted, given the circumstances. "Will you _stop_ _that_? Hurts!"

I mean _really_! My brain felt as though it was on a 'how to ride the bumper cars' crash course – with a lot of bloody crashing!

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Shit…" He was panicking. I wasn't panicking. He was. I was too focussed on the whole 'my skull's being turned into mulch' situation to panic.

His hand wound around to the back of my head and eased it down, but when his fingers pinched my nose closed, I let out a mighty 'ARGH!' and very nearly punched him in the face.

_The pain!_

"I know… I know it hurts sweetheart. I'm so very sorry!"

_Sorry doesn't make it feel any better!_ I internally bellowed as I began to sob.

And then because things always have a funny way of becoming much, much worse, Edward removed, yes – _removed_ his towel and began swiping it across my face, caring very little for the fact that my head was bent _down_.

I sobbed even harder.

He fought against my struggled attempts to lift my head up, eventually bringing it even further down towards… it.

I started sob-screaming.

_My eyes!_

_The pain!_

_Therapy!_

"Eward!" My voice was muffled by my pinched nose and the towel over my mouth. I started shaking my head back and forth violently. "Eward! Gnoooo, gop ik!"

"Bella you need to calm down. Shhh, it's alright! I'm right here…"

_I can see that!_

Most definitely _not_ alright!

"Pegis! Pegis!" I desperately started hollering for him to cover back up.

I sounded beyond ridiculous.

I was staring straight at his penis. The terrorist.

I knew right then and there that there was no way I was allowing his gentleman to ever go near my poor, broken lady. If looking at it had caused this much trauma, I was erecting a five foot 'no go' zone around my lady V to prevent further damage from any possible physical handling.

No. Freakin'. Go.

It looked big. And scary. And the male anatomy was ugly.

Edward lifted my head back up and I was met by his fearful greens. The world spun. He was closely examining my face and I blushed scarlet thinking of how I'd closely examined him today. The world spun some more.

He removed his fingers from my nose and swiped his towel gently over it, my blood soaking and staining the white material instantly.

I felt my eyes rolling into the back of my head. Things were becoming fuzzy, unclear.

"Bella?"

Edward swore again.

Time just… faded in and out. My lucidity fled.

For moments there was nothing and then I was floating, being held, warm, nothing, in a strange room, warm, cradled in, nothing, pain, no pain, nothing.

It was very confusing.

Edward's voice kept cracking through. Odd sentences that made no sense to me were uttered. Words such as 'concussion' and 'so much blood' and 'will she be alright?' were spoken.

I knew at the exact point when I became fully aware of my surroundings, because the pain between my legs licked through my entire being, making me cry out.

Oh it hurt. Everything just _hurt_.

Arms tightened protectively around me, a kiss was placed on top of my head.

"… So I'll be in late. Please cancel my nine o'clock and apologise on my behalf… Well they'll just have to accept it… I don't care… I am deadly serious. Set up a conference call with Peterson and arrange another meeting, bump something less important if you have too. Make sure Finn is finished with the Sydney prototype… Then chase him down… Yes, I am aware of that… Right, bye."

I heard a bleep that indicated the end of his phone call followed by a hearty sigh.

Edward's hand began running through my hair. "Are you with me, Bella?"

"Yes." My voice cracked.

I was in Edward's bedroom.

He gently moved his hand to my face, titling it upward toward him. "Can you tell me what the date is?"

I frowned and then winced at the pain the action caused. "It's the seventh of September."

A day that would go down in history as the day Bella Swan became the walking, talking poster ad for Looney Tunes.

"Full name?"

"Isabella Marie Swan."

He lifted his other hand and held up some fingers. "How many?"

"Four."

He pressed a light kiss to my lips. "Hmmm, zip code?"

"NY 10014." I answered instantly.

"Can you list your courses for this semester?"

I thought about that. Yes I could.

"Lit Humanities, French, Frontiers of Science, African Civilization, my introductory poetry class and gym," I groaned.

Edward chuckled. "Physical Education, Miss Swan. And it's not as bad as you think it's going to be. It's only for a year."

I gave him a 'look'.

"Well you certainly don't have a concussion, thank God. But I do think you need to stay home and rest. I can call in and let them know about your absence if you want?"

I snorted. Not a very sensible thing to do. My eyes began to sting and well from the lasting bite of pain. I felt like crap, but I was not missing my first day of college.

I shook my head lightly. "No need. I'll go in."

It was Edward's turn to snort. "Bella…"

I cut him off. "I'm going in. I'll take some Tylenol."

His eyes widened and he looked ready to argue, but his Blackberry began to chime.

Rolling his eyes, he pressed several keys and answered, "Vicky."

"We'll talk about you calling James before you called me later!" Victoria snapped through the loudspeaker. "Is Bella alright?"

Edward gave me a pointed stare. "She's awake; I'm not quite sure about the 'alright' part."

"What the hell happened? All I got from this moron was 'Bella's busted up her nose, lots of blood, passed out, he'll be in late.'"

"That's what he told me!" James defended from somewhere in the background.

"You shut up!" Vicky fired back. "You are officially the worst messenger in the world! Did you even ask him if she was okay?"

"I didn't have time, he hung up! And you were in the shower anyway, so it's a moot point!"

"Lame ass excuse, James Johnston. _Lame_." She goaded. "Edward, how's Bella?"

Edward raised his eyebrows at me. "No concussion, though she's determined to still go to class."

"_Concussion_?" Vicky said disbelievingly. "What in the name of God did you do to her?"

My face flushed and I averted my eyes.

"She slipped over in the bathroom." Edward offered no more, for which I was incredibly grateful.

"Is she even okay to go in?"

"No," Edward said emphatically, just I answered with my own, "yes."

"Oh Bella! Sweetie, how are you?" Vicky began to gush.

"I'm alright. I need to get going." I responded, beginning to shift in Edward's lap.

_Pain. _

Edward gripped me tighter. "You don't _need_ to be going anywhere, you _need_ to rest."

"I'm not missing my first day." I countered.

I was going in.

"Bella," he sighed. "You face-planted into a doorframe, several times. Do you really think that's a smart move?"

No, but I was doing it anyway.

I shifted again, making my intent clear. Edward released his grip on me.

Walking, I am sad to say, felt like a whole new experience. As in, I could barely do it. But one look down at Edward revealed his still nearly naked form to me, so I straightened up and began to hobble to the bathroom, whimpering all the way and trying to remember where the bleach was kept.

"Seriously Bella, are you going to be alright?"

No! I'm think I'm freakin' _crippled_!

Noiselessly and with a face that clearly said, 'I think I'm dying', I turned and mouthed, "Fine."

Jesus – the pain! The sheer _pain_!

"You really don't look too fine," he said worriedly.

_I smashed my face into a door as hard as a crapping diamond! Would you be?_

"I'm really OK." And I must have looked constipated.

I'd die of embarrassment over that later, I decided.

"Sweetheart I think you should to stay home and lie down, at least for today. Please."

Lie down? I needed a Goddamn coffin! I had a walk that looked like I was on a donkey ride - minus the donkey, tunnel vision, a foot at a ninety degree angle, my nose felt broken and my lady parts were screaming obscenities at me.

Looking hot I was certainly not.

Shoot me now - it would be kinder.

At least I could now do the splits though… I shuddered.

"Shout if you need anything," Edward called as I shut _and_ _locked_ the bathroom door.

I was a mess.

The mirror revealed a face that I could barely recognise beneath the dried blood; the swelling around my upper nose and eyes and the bruising that was already beginning to present itself. I looked like I had just stepped out of a live Tom and Jerry episode. My nose wasn't broken, but it was certainly not looking very pretty.

I wasn't exactly off to a great start.

I blamed Edward's penis.

(*)

I hissed as I slowly edged my legs into a pair of dark wash jeans but thanked whatever deity that may be up there for ballet flats, no socks to put on or laces to tie, ergo no bending. My bronze star day took a violent shove into silver.

I stuffed my arms through first a fitted white camisole and then a loose fitting navy coloured vest with a tiny pocket on its left breast. I carefully placed my feet into my brown flats and snatched up my brown messenger bag. I was ready.

Edward was still perched on the end of my bed by the sounds of things, probably still looking a mite harassed. His Blackberry had been going insane with calls for the past hour, all of which he had studiously ignored while he came in to try and talk some 'sense' into me.

I walked out of my closet and shut the doors, cringing with every step that I took.

"This is a bad idea," Edward shook his head, his eyes pleading.

I shrugged and averted my gaze. I was struggling to look at him. "It's my first day, I'm not missing it."

"Bella," he breathed. "You _passed_ _out_. You were probably one head crack away from a concussion. You're clearly in pain. Please," he begged. "I'll take the day off."

I scoffed. _Pain_. "You're flying out to Sydney next week; you can't afford to take a day off. I'm fine."

"You are not fine," he said tightly. "Anyone can see that you are most definitely _not_ fine. You're being reckless!"

"How can not wanting to miss my first day of college be considered reckless? It's sensible. I'm not about to kick start my degree by falling behind, Edward."

"I highly doubt that anybody would think this is the 'sensible' thing to do. You can barely walk!"

"Well I should start practicing then, shouldn't I?" I snapped suddenly, this morning's events finally starting to catch up and fraying the last of my delicate nerves.

I hated that I was feeling this embarrassed around him. As if our situation wasn't already bizarre enough, I had to go and add to the general nuttiness. I'd been starting to feel so damn comfortable around Edward and then this happens. I was so mad at myself.

I've said it before and I'll say it again – gah!

"Are you sure this is really about not wanting to miss your first day?"

I looked up to find Edward's eyes probing, filled with questions.

I frowned. _Pain_. "What are you talking about?"

He cocked his head to the side. "Are you sure you're not trying to… run away? I know that you're probably antsy given what you saw earlier on, but I don't want you feeling uncomfortable, Bella. It's really not a big deal."

My face _flamed_.

I blinked several times, ignoring the sting.

_Not a big deal._

Except that it was, to me anyway. The whole ordeal was just downright humiliating.

"I need to get going, I'm going to be late." I limped pathetically over to my desk to retrieve my file and made for my bedroom door. _Pain_.

"Bella," I heard him stand and follow me out into the hallway. "I think we should talk about this."

I started shuffling down the stairs, one foot at a time. _Pain_. "There's nothing to talk about."

"I disagree."

_Good for you_, I internally grumbled.

I was still annoyed having not been able to locate the bleach.

His footsteps started to quicken behind me. "Bella, please. I don't like this."

"I'm sorry to hear that, but I'm still going. It's too important."

Edward's arm reached out and caught mine, halting my movements. "That's not what I'm referring to and you know it. You've gotten so settled in and comfortable here and I don't want this… this…" he blew out a large breath. "I don't want what happened this morning to ruin that."

Not wanting to meet his eyes, I stared blankly at the wall behind him. Every time I did, I was reminded of everything I had seen. I saw his back rippling, his arms flexing, the water droplets cascading down his spine, his not-so-textbook-sized manhood. I didn't want to be reminded of any of it; I wanted to forget it all. It was unknown territory to me and it was terrifying. As was the realisation that Edward really was a God of a man, and I was a… what? What the hell was I in comparison to him? I was small. I was plain. I didn't have an amazing body with voluptuous breasts and to-die-for curves. Seeing Edward only confirmed what I'd known all along – I didn't fit his mould. I knew what lay underneath that light grey, pinstriped suit of his now, I'd seen it all. And he was magnificent.

How the hell does magnificent settle for me? How can magnificent ever appreciate average at best?

He was just another person I could look forward to disappointing. Just great.

Yes, I really was mad at myself. Edward was right, I had been settling well and I'd become so comfortable around him. And now I felt as though I was right back at square one.

There was progress if ever I saw it…

I moved my gaze to where Edward's grip held me. "I'm going to be late."

"Do you think you could at least look at me and say that?" His tone hinted at his frustration, which I could absolutely understand. Not that it changed anything.

He didn't move his hand, so I opted to shrug out of his hold instead and turned to continue my journey down to the ground floor. _Pain_.

I had just reached the second set of stairs when his voice sounded out.

"Do you want me to call you a cab?"

"No, I'll get the subway."

"A cab would drop you off right at the campus gates, Bella. You won't have to walk all the way to 14th Street."

I reached the ground floor. "I'd only end up stuck in traffic." I reached for my light blue cardigan that Edward had hung onto the tree trunk, removed my bag and put it on as quickly as I could manage, desperate to get out of the house.

"Will you at least let me drive you to 14th Street then?"

I glanced up briefly to find him descending the stairs and heading toward me, his hands were stuffed into his pockets and his eyes were glinting cautiously.

Crap.

_Back, arms, water, penis…_

God help me!

Inner began shuffling toward the door on her stomach, using her elbows as leverage to prowl against the hardwood. She'd stuck several leafy twigs into her hardhat and painted three brown streaks onto each cheek.

_Inept losers this way!_ She shrilled.

"I'm fine, Edward. Thanks." I looped my bag back over my shoulder and snatched up my file. "I'll see you later."

I began dragging my feet toward the front door, towards my sanctuary, my saving grace. _More pain_.

"Bella?"

My hand was reaching for the handle. "Yes?"

"Are you forgetting something?"

_Still trying to_, I thought dryly.

I felt his presence directly behind me, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. When the jangle of keys sounded, I mentally started kicking my own ass.

I held my hand to the side shakily without turning to face him.

Nothing happened.

But I refused to turn.

I could feel my eyes beginning to prick; the emotional swell was just too much. The Tylenol I had taken was barely taking the edge off the pain, and I was just so unbelievably mortified and in desperate need of escape.

_Back, arms, water, penis…_

Edward sighed and I felt his lips press lightly against the back of my head.

"We are talking about this tonight." He placed the keys softly into my upturned palm and I heard him take two steps backward.

I hastily wrenched open the door and fled the second I felt the cool metal press into my skin.

I hobbled, shamefaced and scarred for life from the house-of-lost-vision and made the ten minute walk to the subway at 14th Street. Every part of my body was throbbing with a low, miserable hum of sheer torture.

Not a happy camper did I make.

I could feel the area around my nose bruising with each passing second. Like an ink blot on tissue paper spreading rapidly, there was absolutely nothing I could do, but wait for the colourful blotches to finish surfacing. I was going to look hideous.

Naked men were dangerous.

Edward's penis was lethal. The man with the lethal peen – lethal peen man. He could be a villain in a comic book with a name like that.

I mentally berated my sheer stupidity for an entire half hour until I reached my stop at 116th Street in Morningside Heights. I had a very short walk to make before I found myself completely encompassed in part of Columbia's campus. I wish I could say that nobody stared. Unfortunately, when you walk like you've just blown a hedgehog out of your ass and have a face that suggests a run in with a baseball bat; people's eyes become maddeningly drawn to you, even in 'anything goes' New York.

I believe the term they were all silently thinking was, 'sucks to be you, huh?'

And yes, this morning it certainly freakin' did.

The campus was beautiful. The photographs that I had seen of it previously did not do it justice. It really was the sort of place you needed to see in person. It was very regal looking. While certain buildings had a distinct Ancient Greek feel to them with their large, imposing columns, other parts looked like they had been snatched straight from period England. The sprawling, well manicured lawns and immaculate pathways made me feel as though I was walking through Royal grounds. I was once again struck dumb at the realisation that yes, I was still in the big apple. The luscious greenery and spotlessly clean area felt a bit like Central Park – weird. It was all overshadowed by the towering city that surrounded it, yet it was like being in a time warped bubble, untouched by the crazy out there.

I loved it.

My classes were starting today, though Edward had told me to expect it to be a little more relaxed this week, what with everyone settling in and learning to adjust. For some insane reason, which was currently escaping me, I'd thought it would be a grand idea to cram in six courses this semester, not that I would ever really count _Physical_ _Education_ as a real class. Nearly nineteen years old and still needing to take gym - the hits just kept on coming.

I was desperate to get as much of Columbia's compulsory Core Curriculum out of my way. There were ten 'components' to it, ranging from science classes to an introductory language module. And Physical Education. Let's not forget that one particular horror. All but one of my courses this semester were Core related – I was pushing the maximum twenty-two points limit, if you include gym classes, which I really didn't want. I was considered to be one of the more able students, or at least I was. I'm not quite sure how 'able' they would think I was when the last of my energy reserves were used up during a 'let's poke each other with pointy sticks' fencing class.

Ugh.

Stupid Core.

But if I planned diligently enough, I could have them all over with by the end of my second year. If I pushed hard, I could spend my final two years studying what I loved the most – English, English and more English.

I stopped in front of a tall campus map and let my poor eyes to do the work. My first class was Literature Humanities over in Philosophy Hall, followed by a large 'welcome meeting' held by the Dean in the Alfred Learner Auditorium. I smiled a little when I saw that Avery Hall was listed as the graduate architecture building and I thought of a younger Edward strolling through these very same grounds during his youth.

Almost as if he knew that I was thinking about him, my iPhone chimed.

**Sender:** Edward

**Date:** September 7 10:16AM

_Please let me know that you haven't collapsed. _

_I am not averse to calling in favours should I need _

_to chase you down. _

_I will say it again, Miss Swan – this was a bad idea._

_~E_

Aw crap!

Was that the time? I had to be in class in nine minutes!

I hastily threw my cell into my bag and began limping eastward over to the hall. My mangled legs propelled me toward the six story, red brick building where a bronze statue of Rodin's Le Penseur lay spectacularly glinting in the morning sun.

I came to a standstill inside while I quickly scanned the building's floor plan long enough to figure out that I needed to be on the third floor, because naturally, hoping that I'd be on the ground was just foolhardy given my lack of luck so far today.

I was relieved to find that the class had yet to fill entirely and opted to take a seat next to a sweet looking girl who'd smiled brightly at me when I walked in.

"Siobhan," she whispered quietly, politely holding out a hand to me.

She reminded me a little of Vicky, though her red hair was slightly more strawberry blonde in colour and curled into tight, bushy ringlets. Her eyes were the strangest shade, not quite blue or green, but balancing precariously somewhere in the middle of both. Her milky, slightly chubby cheeks were dusted with freckles and I knew that we would get along wonderfully when I glanced down to find her tattered copy of _The Iliad_ lying on top of the table.

"Bella," I smiled back, taking her warm hand in mine.

I dug out my own well used copy of our required text and didn't miss the shining beam that Siobhan granted me.

"Oh, I think I'm going to like you!" She winked, right before the classroom door was thrown open by a cranky looking man in his fifties.

"If we have any stupid people among us today, could said stupid people please make themselves known now?" He skulked his way over to the desk at the front, slammed his briefcase down onto it and turned to face the class. "To certify as stupid, you need to have forgotten to buy, bring or read your text. Anyone?"

His thick accent cut across the silence like a knife. He sounded like Dracula.

Two people raised their hands.

"You know where the door is, goodbye." He waved towards the door dismissively.

The shamed and confused looking duo bolted for it.

"Do we have any annoying people who have forgotten to go pee-pee before my class?"

Nothing.

"Good," he cooed derisively. "Do we have any incredibly moronic individuals who have forgotten to turn off or silence their cell phones?"

Oh God, no…

Nobody raised their hands, whether they were too frightened to get kicked out and were simply hoping for the best, I didn't know. But I didn't want to take that chance, he'd definitely be angrier if that were to happen, no?

Wincing, I raised my hand.

_Fabulous. I was going to get kicked out of my first class._

The man's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Oh, look here… honesty presents itself."

I gulped.

His eyes narrowed. ""Meriones, fleet son of Molus, best of comrades, why have you left the field? Are you wounded and is the point of the weapon hurting you? Or have you been sent to fetch me? I want…"" he trailed off expectantly, his head cocking to the side in silent challenge.

I closed my eyes and bit my lip.

He wanted me to finish.

""… I want no fetching; I had far rather fight than stay in my tent." The Iliad, Book thirteen." My voice was shaky, but I was at least confident in my words.

The man blinked.

I heard the scraping of several chairs as people turned to stare at me. My face turned beet red from the sudden attention.

And then something unexpected happened. The man _smirked_ at me.

"You may switch off your cell." He turned and began to rifle through his briefcase. "My name is Professor Stefan Korzha, remember it. Open your texts, we will be reviewing quickly, so make sure you can keep up, I despise snails."

(*)

Siobhan Nolan was right up my alley. She was here on a partial scholarship and was still undecided as to whether she wanted to major in English or Philosophy. She had a cheerful disposition and a kind word for everyone, and I liked her a great deal already. Her parents lived in Connecticut and ran a Barns and Noble franchise, which had subsequently led to her love and fascination of all things literature based. Here was a girl my own age, who I could have in depth, intelligent conversations with and not have to worry about boring her to death. She'd also told me to give her any of my future reading lists so that she could get me a store discount.

Talk about a dream come true.

We had made it through Professor Korzha's class relatively unscathed, though we'd both be lying if we claimed to not find the tall, stick insect-like man absolutely petrifying. He'd actually thrown a hardback book at the door when three students attempted to sneak in late. Let's just say that they left quickly. To label the man temperamental would be a bit of an understatement.

Siobhan and I had stuck together through the hour long welcome meeting, which had also included a brief introduction to important faculty members, a virtual tour of the campus and a safety regulations presentation. At lunchtime we found ourselves in one of the Alfred Learner Hall's student cafes talking get-to-know-you nonsense, she'd giggled herself to tears over my slightly altered bathroom accident tale from this morning. We had a short free period before our next class began so we strolled over to Kent Hall to get our student I.D. cards made up. It was a beautiful sunny day and the grounds were fit for our admiring eyes. We exchanged cell numbers and went our separate ways, me to French class and her to Latin.

I was making my way back to the Philosophy building when I heard somebody call my name. As I turned, I was stunned to see an older gentleman with shoulder length yellow hair waving me down.

"Miss Isabella Swan?" He gasped as he closed the distance between us.

I eyed him cautiously. "Yes?"

He looked a little like he may be about to have a stroke.

"Uh… are you alright?"

How many compressions for CPR was it?

"Fine," he wheezed. "Professor Whitlock… Jasper. Delighted to meet you." He stuck out a shaking hand in greeting.

I quickly jiggled one of his fingers before snatching my hand back.

"I'm a… a… a good friend of Edward's and I also desperately need to quit smoking apparently. Jesus! Seeing spots…"

How to respond to that?

"Edward Cullen?"

"The very one." He started hacking. "Bastard owes me a beer after this."

I frowned, taking in the man's appearance. He looked a little strange. His hair was wild and uncombed; his gold coloured corduroy pants didn't match his green-grey checkered shirt or his brown tweed jacket. Oh, and he was wearing Nike's.

Now I'm not fashion savvy, but even to my eyes his ensemble looked a little… _off_.

_Professor_, he had said. _Really_?

"Is Edward alright?"

The man – Jasper, began to chuckle.

"One thing you should know about Edward, Miss Swan, he worries too much. I've been trying to track you down for hours. He says that you're to call him immediately 'if conscious'."

I smiled tightly and suppressed my eye roll. _If_ _conscious_.

"Well… thank you for finding me."

"No problem," he panted. "A pleasure to meet you!"

He began to stumble away, clutching at what I could only presume to be a stitch in his side while his face contorted into a distorted cringe.

Definitely an odd one…

When I turned my cell back on, I had a number of missed calls and messages awaiting me, all from Edward.

**Sender:** Edward

**Date:** September 7 11:17AM

_It's been an hour and no word. _

_Are you alright?_

**Sender:** Edward

**Date:** September 7 12:36PM

_Bella please let me know if you're okay. _

**Sender:** Edward

**Date:** September 7 01:24PM

_I know that you're feeling a little thrown_

_by this morning's… festivities, but that's no_

_reason to ignore me, Bella. Please let me know _

_that you're well. I'm worried about you!_

**Sender:** Edward

**Date:** September 7 02:43PM

_If I don't hear from you in the next hour I am _

_coming up there!_

Jesus.

I dialled immediately.

"Good afternoon."

Oh… he sounded mad.

If today was an indication of days to come, I think I'd opt for hiding under my bed.

* * *

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**Kat and I will need a little patience over the next couple of weeks – I'm desperately trying to get 14 typed up quickly so that I can get the EPOV outtake written and over with, and poor Kat's got the real challenge of making it all readable. I'm feeling a **_**mite**_** stressed with it all, so please just bear with us and we will get there! :)**

**See you at the next update – week from hell part 2!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Stephanie Meyer owns Twilight, no copyright infringement intended. **

**Special thanks to pixiekat for the Beta and her continuous support. **

**Huge cuddles to all of my lovely girls, you know who you are. **

**Thank you to everybody who continues to read, rec and review. **

**This chapter probably won't be what you're expecting, but before you all start yelling at me, I would just like to point out that chapter 15 is already with ^ wonder woman ^ up there and will be posted soon :) Had planned to post them both up at the same time, but figured we were a little *coughs* behind with an update. **

**Disclaimer: No pancakes were injured in this chapter. PAPA's, please calm yourselves ;)**

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"You'll never understand the reason until you look deep enough into the cut to see the emotional pain that put it there."

~ Unknown

_Chapter Fourteen_

_I dialled immediately. _

"_Good afternoon."_

_Oh… he sounded mad. _

_If today was an indication of days to come, I think I'd opt for hiding under my bed. _

(*)

I suddenly found myself gnawing a hole through my bottom lip as I responded with a meek, "Hi."

"For a smart young woman, Isabella, you sure have made some rather silly decisions today." Edward's voice was tightly wound, precariously close to snapping.

I had completely forgotten all about him.

And apparently, we were back to my full name.

"I'm sorry, I forgot-"

"I'm not surprised!" He cut in. "Generally speaking, cracking your head on a solid wood surface, _several times_, leaves the concept of remembering anything in the damn grey!"

_Yeah_… he was mad.

"Do you have _any_ idea how worried I have been? I'm standing outside of my office waiting to hail a cab!"

I shifted uneasily, toying with the corner of my cardigan. "I'm really sorry; I didn't mean to make you worry. I just got caught up."

"And you couldn't have found the time to simply send a text message? _I'm fine_. It's two words, Bella." He sighed in exasperation.

I had to admit, I was in the dark here. I had no idea how to deal with this, with him being like this. I wasn't versed in 'irate' Edward. Before now, I hadn't even realised Edward was capable of being angry with anyone except his sister – he was always so nice, so easy going. I wasn't used to having to check in with anyone, which was certainly not helping my current understanding of the situation.

I didn't know what else to say.

"I know you had quite a morning, but I don't appreciate having to ask a friend to chase you down. Nor do I appreciate having to cancel an important three o'clock meeting because I didn't know whether you are lying on a sidewalk unconscious or not."

I glanced at my watch and winced.

Late.

I had to wrap this up.

"I'm going to be in Sydney for nearly three weeks, Bella. How can I trust-"

It was turn to cut him off. "Uh… Edward? I know that my timing is horrible but I have to get to class. I'm really late."

I could practically feel his eye beginning to twitch through my cell.

I don't think 'oops' even began to cover it.

"Fine. We'll talk about this later… _as well_." I heard several cars honking on his end. "I'll see you little while."

"Okay. Bye," was my uneasy response as I cringingly pressed the end call button.

_Errare humanum est_… apparently not.

(*)

My French professor hated me. And not because I was some random girl who stumbled into his class late, no. He hated _me_.

"Ah, Miss Swan. You grace us all with your presence… at last." He deadpanned.

I didn't know how he knew my name or even how he knew of me to begin with, but the man literally went out of his way to make me feel uncomfortable for the entire hour. He fired French words and sentences at me rapidly, highlighting my hopeless knowledge of the language for all to see. When I finally managed to work up the courage to point out that I had never studied French before, hence my reason for taking the _introductory_ class, his eyes narrowed in what I could only describe as contempt.

When our hour was up, he asked loudly that I stay behind.

I received an ear full of, 'if you are expecting preferential treatment from _me_, Miss Swan, than you shall be sorely disappointed' and, 'I don't care how many outside 'friends' you may have, do not suppose for one moment that their influence will permeate my classroom walls' and my personal favourite, 'you had better buck up your ideas and change your attitude if you want to pass _my_ class!'

What had I done?

I apologised sincerely for my lateness and explained that I had to take an important phone call, but surely being scolded like a child for taking steps to learn a language that I was unfamiliar with was a little… odd. And judging by the lack of raised hands, I hadn't been alone in that class with my deficiency for the foreign tongue.

My genuine confusion only seemed to aggravate him further though, giving him the perfect opportunity to demand that I give a presentation, in fluent French, on why learning a second language was so important, this coming Thursday.

Yeah, sure… I'd get right on that. Shouldn't be a problem. I had 'oui' and 'moi' down, I could work from there.

Monsieur Laurent – apparently not a fan of Bella Swan.

Bella Swan – hating Monsieur Laurent _just a little bit_.

After French, I had to trek over to the Dodge Fitness Centre to pick up my Physical Education schedule. I was thoroughly disgruntled to see that my compulsory swim test would be taking place tomorrow afternoon. How I was going to pull that one off I really wasn't quite sure. I hated swimming, the deep end was petrifying and the smell of chlorine turned my stomach. There was also the tiny issue of being temporarily crippled going against me. Finally, I returned to Student Services to collect my I.D card and spent the entire journey home fighting back tears. I was positive I looked a mess.

It was with a heavy heart and a stuffy nose that I limped through the front door a little before 6pm. I wasn't looking forward to this, I had no doubt Edward was angry with me. Edward had never been angry with me.

_Great_.

The switch in his emotions left me feeling unbalanced. I'd often thought long and hard at night, just before sleep took me, about how different things could have been. Edward could've been the polar opposite of what he actually was. He _could have_ been a complete bastard.

And the tragic thing about that?

Sometimes I thought it would be easier if he was.

My arrangement with Edward could've been so much more sinister, I could have spent the next four years of my life being ordered around and told what to do. I knew that. Sex in exchange for tuition - no more, no less. No feelings, no compassion, no kindness. I would've kept my mouth shut and I would have just done whatever was asked of me without question, because my education meant so much.

And it would have been so simple, because detachment was effortless. Being grateful for his sincere generosity, his worry, his… Edward-ness – was _hard_. Knowing how to react to it – was _hard_.

Just when I thought I was starting to get used to his caring, happy nature, a switch had happened. It threw me through a loop. I wasn't accustomed to such seasoned emotions. The three fairly constant figures in my life weren't like that. My parents had always been ill tempered people. When you live with constant cloud, you always expect the rain to come at any time. And then there was Angela. My best friend. She shone brighter than the sun ever could. Angela was perpetually happy, she could redeem just about any character flaw. Things were always bright in Angela's world.

The two had never mixed and blended into one person for me. Try as I might, I couldn't piece together the Edward I had become accustomed to and the Edward who I had angered.

I didn't understand.

The wave of relief that crashed through me when I realised he wasn't at home yet was immense. I sent a silent prayer of thanks up to the heavens, up to every deity that my brain had the capacity to remember.

My stomach growled angrily, protesting my skipped breakfast and light lunch rather pointedly. But the idea of hobbling down the stairs and then skulking about the kitchen _waiting_ for Edward to return was frightfully unappealing. So I opted to crawl up the stairs, quite literally, to my sanctuary and hide like the wimpy chicken I was. I'm not ashamed to admit that I did seriously consider hiding under the bed, but my rapidly bruising body would only yell at me some more.

Top of the bed it was.

Or on second thought, the bathroom had locks. Yes, Edward - _locks_. I could hide in there.

I made my way in to the room O' torture and started to run a bath, adding a little lavender oil to the steady stream of hot water. I think I may have sustained some permanent damage to my legs and back when I bent down to grab Edward's shampoo from the separate shower cubicle.

Stupid shower.

That's where the troubles _all_ began.

I may have glared.

My body sank uneasily into the filled tub but quieted its agonized yelping as soon as the hot water began to tide across every inch of my skin. Heaven.

I immersed my hair as soon as I had turned properly pink, using Edward's shampoo to wash away the city's daily dose of grime. The sharp, fresh scents hit my nose immediately and reminded me of the man the gloppy liquid belonged to.

I rinsed and washed it again, determined to make the scent stick as much as possible. There was something highly soothing about it, almost comforting.

By the time I clambered out, I was suitably pruned and the water had cooled significantly. I wrapped myself in one of the large white bath sheets and pulled the plug, feeling that tingly, lightheaded euphoria a hot bath could bring. I felt relaxed, jelly-like. It was just what I had needed after today's… _offerings_.

Sleepily, I slapped my hand against my iPod dock and folded in on myself as soon as my body hit my mattress. I didn't bother fighting against my heavy eyelids as they began to close, my ears taking in the lulling background music and whisking me off to a calming space filled with dulcet tones and easy dreams.

(*)

A beautiful piano was playing somewhere in the distance and I could practically see the musical black notes bobbing along leisurely in my mind. My waking dream was filled with light caresses and honeyed words, spoken so softly yet so reverently. They whispered liturgical apologies and caring proclamations. My body heated under ghosting fingertips and my lips suckered in warm breath that was not my own. But it was my name being called that tethered my awakening.

My lids fluttered, not making any connection between the darkness I had come from and the darkness that was now in front of them.

"Hey." It was no more than a murmur, a tickle of gentle sounds.

A shiver rippled through my entire being, registering the chill. I felt each individual bump spring across my skin, goose fleshing my body from head to toe.

"Are you cold?" A digit lazily traced the length of my subtly rutted arm, sending a shiver of a different kind through me.

"Edward?" My voice was choked full of sleep as a swiped at my tired eyes.

I felt something press tenderly against the top of my arm. "I'm sorry; I didn't know whether to just let you sleep through or not."

I cleared my throat. "What time is it?"

"A little after midnight. How are you feeling?" Concern laced his tone, decorating and dusting it with his usual worry.

I inhaled deeply. "It's cold."

And it was. I was really, really cold.

Shifting my legs, I found that they passed _over_ the quilt instead of feeling the soft cotton smothering the top of them. Odd. When I moved my arms, the same thing happened, only they brushed against a different fabric altogether also.

I fumbled sleepily, adjusting the positioning of my neck to look down at my body. I saw white. And my bare legs. It confused me.

"Here." Edward moved to the bottom of my bed and the rustle of my green comforter sounded and snapped as he unfolded it and covered me, tucking it in around me gently. "Better?"

I hummed my assent and snuggled in, relishing the new silky warmth.

A hand ran across the top of my head affectionately, fingers twined through my hair and I felt myself being lulled, pulled back into unconsciousness slowly.

(*)

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap…

It was like an annoying insect buzzing around my ears, disturbing my slumber and threatening me with consciousness.

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, click, click, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap…

What the hell was that?

It was continuous. The only let up came with each new click. And it was close. Very close.

I felt my grumble build its way up my throat and spring forth from my lips. My body shifted, feeling like it had run a marathon with no prior training. Everything was stiff and sore and aching.

"Good morning."

I opened one eye and squinted.

_Nothing good about it_, I inwardly snarked. My body hated me. I hated my body. At least we were on equal hating terms.

"How are you feeling?" One of his fingers started to trace lazy circles across my left arm.

_Like I got hit by a truck! _

"Fine," I croaked, clearing my throat.

Edward arched a sardonic eyebrow. "Uh-huh… and how are you really feeling?"

I opened my mouth to repeat my answer when the reality of this set up hit me.

This… _wasn't right_.

Cranking my neck to the side, I saw my alarm clock flash a neon blue 5:06AM at me. I turned back to Edward. Edward – who was in my room, sitting up in my bed, on his laptop, in the semi-darkness, at 5:06 in the morning.

Huh?

"How long have you been sitting there?" I quizzed, glowering at his laptop, the tapping sleep disrupter.

The question came out harsher than I had intended. I really needed to work on my morning person.

"A few hours," he shrugged, setting his gadget onto my side table.

I rubbed my still tired eyes and yawned. "How many is a few?"

"It doesn't matter. Are you in any pain? I picked you up some Aleve yesterday and Vicky got hold of some vitamin k cream and a special foundation to help with the facial bruising."

Note to self: avoid looking at anything that may project a reflection for the next week.

"Thank you," I began stretching out my muscles to try to loosen them up. "Edward, how long have you been there? You did sleep, right?"

"No." His answer was short. "Now are you going to answer my question?"

I blinked, with wide eyes up at him. "You haven't slept?"

His face seemed to harden, his jaw flexed and the radiating vibe I was receiving from him was one of building irritation.

"I think, given yesterday's events, keeping an eye on you was the smart thing to do. Near-concussions, I've heard, should be taken seriously."

"I wasn't at risk of a concussion, Edward. I'm fine."

His eyes flared. "My father is one of the leading Neurologists in this state, Bella. Are you sure you would like to continue debating that?"

He had that tone again. I didn't like it.

"You're mad at me?" I guessed, gnawing on my bottom lip.

He began chuckling, though there was little to no humour in it. "Being angry with you, Miss Swan, is seemingly very hard to accomplish. Frustrated, on the other hand? Unbelievably so."

"I'm sorry."

That was the right response, wasn't it? Would he go back to being happy now?

"I don't get it, Bella. How could you possibly think that I wouldn't want to know how you were after what happened? Going to class yesterday was foolish, but it wasn't my call to make and I'll be damned if I'm ever going to morph into some domineering control freak who dictates your every move. If I disagree with your choices, all I can ever do is respectfully ask that you reconsider. I can't and I won't command your decision making though."

Well, that wasn't strictly true…

"The contract states otherwise, Edward." I whispered. We hadn't talked about it since I signed. I wasn't quite sure what reaction it would infuse.

"That contract is full of impersonal formalities, Bella. It's nothing more than an insurance policy for us both. If I deemed something you were considering to do life threatening, then of course I would do everything within my power to stop you, just like any other caring person would. And I'd be perfectly within my _rights_ to stop you. For everything else, I can only discuss it and hope that you see sense. I explained this back in Seattle. Yes, I can object and ask that you not do something, but short of chaining you up, I can't police you and nor would I want to. I'm not here to stampede your independence. I am however, here and about to go bald if you don't learn to use your damn cell phone," he stared at me pointedly.

I nodded sheepishly. "I really didn't mean to make you worry."

"Worry?" He scoffed. "If I suddenly start getting any grey hairs, it's not from age."

Oh…

Were we back to playful Edward? Playful Edward I knew.

"What do you mean start?" I deadpanned, reaching my hand out towards the top of his head. "What's… _this_?"

He grabbed a hold of my hand and brought it to his lips. "Cheeky."

I sighed as I felt him nuzzle my fingers gently. "So you're not mad at me?"

"No," he kissed the centre of my palm. "I'm not mad. You could drive a man to insanity, Bella, but not to anger. Did you think I was mad?"

I swallowed. "Yes."

He gazed at me for the longest time, frowning and raking his nails across my upturned palm.

"And how did that make you feel?"

It took a moment to absorb his question but as soon as I had, I winced.

"Hey," he squeezed my fingers. "You know that you can always talk to me, Bella. I will always be ready to listen to you."

Maybe that was the problem. I didn't like to 'talk' and I wasn't used to having people 'listen'. Ang used to say the same things; in the long run I think she'd simply accepted my voluntary muteness. What exactly was I supposed to 'talk' about anyway?

I refocused my eyes on the wall.

"Bella?"

"Hmm?"

"_Bella?_"

"What?" I looked back at him, albeit unwillingly.

"How did it make you feel?"

Was he really going to push this?

"Why does it matter?"

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say.

He'd have looked less shocked if I'd slapped him.

"What do you mean, 'why does it matter?' Your feelings will always _matter_, Bella. How can you be so blasé about how _you_ feel?"

Was this another one of those things that I was supposed to know and didn't? Would he shut up about this if I gave him something?

"I felt confused." I nodded, somewhat proud of myself.

See, I shared.

"Why were you confused?" He pressed.

I snatched my hand away and made myself sit up… in my towel. Crap!

This is why talking was a lot of nonsense. Every question lead to an answer and each answer was followed by more questions. It was stupid.

"Can I make pancakes for breakfast?"

"Of course you can, as soon as we're done here."

I stood up stiffly.

My God, my poor body. And I had to swim today. Jeez…

"I'm done," I said brightly. "Do you mind if I make blueberry again?"

"Not at all. And we are not done." Edward stood up too. "Why were you confused, Bella?"

"I don't know. It's not important," I shrugged, trying for nonchalance.

"On the contrary, Miss Swan. It's very important."

I narrowed my eyes at him suspiciously. "Why? It's all sorted out now." Wasn't it?

"No, it's not. And we're going to continue going round and round in circles until you learn to open up a little. I can't read your mind, Bella. I'm relying on you to tell me how you feel about things."

"I told you how I felt. I felt confused."

"And that's a good start. Now tell my _why_ you were confused."

"Because I thought you were mad at me. I've already told you that, Edward."

"Given the circumstances, I had every right to be mad at you. So what about that was confusing?"

I rolled my eyes. "Have you always been this nosy?"

"Have you always been this defensive?" He asked calmly.

I thought about that.

Was I defensive? I didn't think so. I just told him how I felt. He asked, I answered.

I opted to stare at him blankly.

Edward swiped a hand across his face roughly. "You either run away or try some deflective technique to avoid discussing _anything_. You bottle everything up. It's not healthy. Didn't anybody ever tell you that?"

I shook my head playfully. "No, Plato, they didn't."

He ignored my teasing. "I'm surprised to hear that. It was one of the only sane things my mother used to tell me."

I wanted to snort.

"Well, my mother used to tell me that I was a mistake. That was pretty much as far as her life teachings ever went. Pancakes now?" I asked hopefully.

Edward's face morphed into something akin to shocked disbelief.

I'd seen that look before. My teacher's used to give me that look all the time.

"_Where you heading to, Bella?" Mrs. Hopkins had asked, slowing her car down to a near stop. _

"_Home."_

_She'd frowned. "Well, shouldn't you be waiting for your Mommy back at school honey?"_

"_No, I walk home. I'm a big girl and not to be babied." I'd quoted my Mother's words. _

"_Bella, you live on the other side of town, sweetie. That's an awfully long way to walk on such little legs."_

"_Mm-hmm," I'd nodded proudly. "I'm a big girl." And I could walk it, even with my little legs._

_Mrs. Hopkins had stopped the car completely and climbed out. "Bella, I think you've gotten mixed up. How about I take you back and we'll wait for Mommy together?"_

_I'd cocked my head to the side in confusion. "I'm not mixed up. It's Thursday. My Mother's at Bingo until 7pm."_

And there was the look.

"_Bella?" Miss Reece had called. "Don't you want to make a card for your Mommy? It's Mother's day on Sunday."_

"_No, thank you." _

_She'd looked at me, stunned. "I'm sorry?"_

"_I said no, but thank you." I'd smiled up at my favourite teacher. _

"_Um… well, alright. Would you prefer to make her something else instead?"_

"_No," I'd shaken my head, swinging my legs above the floor. _

"_Bella, don't you want to do something nice for your Mom to show her how much you love her?"_

_I'd thought that was the strangest question anybody had ever asked me. _

"_I don't love my Mother!" I'd reeled. That was almost as bad as saying I loved Tommy Higgins who sat at the front. He picked his nose and ate the boogers. Gross!_

And there was the look… again.

_I'd grinned at Mrs. Jenks, smoothing down the front of my jeans and my top smugly. She'd told me that I looked pretty. _

_But then she'd gasped. _

"_Bella, what happened to your hands?"_

_Oh… that. _

_I had bitten my lip and frowned down at my burned digits. "I kept catching them on the iron."_

_Stupid iron. It was too big for my small hands to manoeuvre. Stupid, small hands. _

_She'd gaped at me. "What were you doing with the iron, Bella?" _

_I'd wanted to roll my eyes, but that was rude. Instead, I'd waved my hands up and down my perfectly non-creased clothes. _

"_Ironing, of course."_

There was the look.

I'd lost count over the years of how many times I had seen that look. I'd come to resent it a little, admittedly. I felt like every time I saw it, my efforts were somehow being bashed. Mrs. Hopkins hadn't looked at me admiringly for being able to walk home all by myself. Miss Reece had been visibly horrified by my admittance, when really; I thought not loving my Mother was a good thing - she wasn't a very nice person and frequently made a point of telling me just how much I was truly _in her way_. Whatever happened to an eye for an eye, huh? Mrs. Jenks hadn't praised my independent efforts to present myself smartly; instead I was left feeling inadequate and dumb for being too little to properly use the iron. And now Edward. Edward, who had just asked me to talk to him, open up to him a little, was giving me that same damn look and all because of something I had just said.

Talk about not being able to catch a break!

Sheesh.

"Bella…" He whispered, seemingly dumbfounded.

"What?" I squirmed under his gaze. "Stop looking at me like that."

I pulled my towel around me tighter.

Edward blinked several times.

"How… what…" He shook his head. "How can you admit to something like that and be so calm?"

"Well, how should I be?" Did he hit his head yesterday too?

He opened his mouth to answer and then closed it. Apparently, I'd rendered him speechless, though the shock on his face was starting to become a palpable substance in the air.

"Will you please stop looking at me like that? Jesus…" I had to look away.

Things became silent. The air between us crackled and popped with discomfort, neither one of us seemed to know which pawn to manoeuvre next.

See - talking equalled bad things.

I had turned Edward Cullen into a statue, I'd reduced the confident, competent man before me into an unmoving effigy to, '_Eh?_'

I had to wonder absently if that would score me points on a résumé. Hmmm.

Eventually I snapped, unable to take the tension.

"Can I go now?"

Edward swallowed thickly, appearing lost in thought. "Yes."

He still hadn't moved by the time I closed the bathroom door.

I remained under the scalding hot water in the shower for as long as I could possibly justify, the suds of Edward's shampoo and my lemon balm shower gel created quite a sharp, tangy aroma when combined. It stung my nose.

I found that he'd placed my cream and cover up on my side of the counter already, so I gently lathered the thick, gooey cream onto my face. The bruising was bad. Hideous, in fact. I blinked back my tears and scolded myself for being ridiculous. It was just a face, my face, but still just a face. Vanity was an ugly quality to possess.

Back in my room, I threw on some dark flared jeans and a white shirt with a navy trim and two breast pockets. I slipped on my brown flats and began drying my hair. Edward's shampoo made it soft and bouncy, the natural wave that ran though it seemed to agree with the product and soon turned said wave into luscious smelling, subtle curls. I left it down; it could act as a curtain for me and my newly acquired _Hunchback of Notre Dame_ appearance.

I was surprised to find that the concealer worked wonders on the ugly, purple splotches adorning my face. I hadn't needed to cake the foundation on thickly at all; a light veil masked the bruising to a near-healed state. I felt a little better, shielded almost. I'd need to call Vicky later and thank her.

It was a little past six when I found myself rummaging through the kitchen cupboards and refrigerator for ingredients. I switched on the iPod dock, set the griddle onto the stove and added an unhealthy dollop of butter to it to melt while I mixed up the batter. My head bopped along to an upbeat tempo as I washed and added the blueberries to the mix. I had just ladled the first spoonful of goo into the pan when I felt arms wrap around me tightly. Very tightly.

I jumped at the contact and gasped, "Jeez, Edward!"

His hold tightened even further.

I stood awkwardly, bowl in one hand and dripping utensil in the other, unable to really move due to the restricting appearance of two new limbs. I felt his nose bury into my neck and his mouth expel one long, heated breath onto my skin, causing it to flush.

I clumsily set the bowl down onto the counter, clanging it several times against the solid wood to ensure that it wasn't resting near the edge. It should be noted that I did attempt to skilfully dart-throw the ladle into said bowl, with the good intention of having it land _in it_. It may have actually smacked its way along the counter and landed on the floor instead, dripping and flinging pancake batter all the way. I think some spattered onto Edward.

I got points for trying though, right?

The melted butter crackled and sizzled around the forming pancake and Edward's hand reached out to violently shove the griddle away and twist the gas knob off.

When his arm snaked back around me, I felt the question bubble forth.

"Edward, are you alright?" I tentatively placed a hand over one of his, patting it unsurely.

His breath shuddered against my neck and his fingers dug into my sides. His face was pressed firmly against me and his nose moved into my hair, inhaling deeply.

I was at a total loss.

Was he okay?

Should I ask again?

Did I just keep quiet?

His fingers turned and wound with mine, his grip a mere squeeze away from bone crushing.

"You're not a mistake," he whispered.

I was glad to no longer be holding the bowl. I think I would have dropped it.

My breath caught and my back tensed.

I felt something stir within me. It clenched and tore and it… it sort of _hurt_. It came from inside. It built from the very pit of my stomach and enflamed the area around my heart. And it wasn't the reminder of my Mother's words that had caused the strange, aching burn. Of course it wasn't. Those words had never had much of an effect on me; I'd accepted the way she felt many years ago.

No. The burn came from the way Edward had voiced those words, like he was trying to convince me of them. They were sincere and packed full of raw emotion, yet he sounded so sad. I was left not knowing whether he meant to comfort me for having been told them, or if I should be comforting him for having learned of them.

I let out a barely audible, stuttering, "I-I know that."

His face nuzzled deeper into my neck. The contact made me shiver.

"No, Bella. I don't think you do." He said quietly. "I don't think anybody has ever let you know just how remarkable you truly are."

I fidgeted, making an attempt to shrug out of his hold. It was useless; his clutch on me was steel tight.

"I don't think you have any inkling of your own self-worth." His nose shifted the material of my shirt to the side and he kissed the sliver of skin directly above my collarbone. "I think you see yourself as above average intelligence and that's about it." He kissed the base of my neck. "I don't think you see how blindingly exceptional you are, inside and out."

I huffed. "Edward, the pancakes?"

"Fuck the pancakes!"

Oh my.

I gulped.

_Edward swore. _

"I need you to understand, Bella." He murmured. "If I have to spend every second of the next four years re-conditioning the way you see yourself, I'll damn well do it. Do you know how much you've managed to tell me in just one sentence? Do you know how many puzzle pieces have just fallen right into place, because you finally let something slip out?"

I needed to sit down.

"You've just told me that your parents aren't the 'odd' people that you claimed them to be, they're cruel. You've just told me that your adorable awkwardness isn't a factor of mere shyness, it's a result of eighteen years spent alone. You've just told me why you have such a fondness for reading; it stems from needing to replace important people in your life with happily ever after fantasy. You replaced people with books."

Edward kissed the shell of my ear and breathed deeply.

"You've just told me why it's practically impossible for you to answer a simple phone call."

"I need to finish breakfast." I made a grab for the bowl, but Edward's hand snatched mine back.

"I'm not trying to parent you. I'm not trying to be your keeper. I call because I care. I call because I need to know that you are safe and well. I don't function properly if I'm worrying. But you, Miss Swan, you've learned to function knowing that nobody _is_ worrying. And it's tragic."

"Edward, please just let it go." I pleaded. "I said I was sorry, it won't happen again, alright?"

"Yes it will." He kissed my cheek. "You can't help not answering when you don't expect the call, Bella. And sadly, I don't think you've ever expected it."

He turned me to face him, hooking his finger underneath my chin and bringing my face closer to his.

"I could quite easily choke her for damaging your heart, you know." He admitted honestly. "I want to, so badly. People who don't appreciate the gemstones should never have access to the jewellers."

He placed a light, delicate kiss to my lips and my breath caught and stuttered.

"_I'm here_, Bella. I'm going nowhere and I will listen." He kissed me again. "You can always, always talk to me. Whether you choose to believe it or not, you have people here who care about you, sweetheart."

How did I respond to that? I had no clue. How did I respond to any of it?

I felt dazed. I felt like I'd just had my eyes pinned opened while being forced to sit through a rapid succession of flickering images.

_Bam, bam, bam, bam, bam._

My brain felt ready to explode.

"Sometimes I wish…" I closed my mouth with an audible snap.

Edward's fingers began stroking my face, tracing across my cheeks and skimming along my jaw line. "What, Bella? What do you wish?"

_Could I? _

No, I couldn't.

_Maybe I could…_

No, definitely not.

_But he said he would listen…_

But he won't understand!

_It's Edward; he'll _try_ to understand…_

I wanted to stamp my foot.

I didn't.

Wanted to – didn't.

"I wish you'd just be horrible to me sometimes!" I said in a rush, without really thinking.

I, sensibly, slapped my hand over my mouth as soon as the words had fled my tongue.

Stupid Bella!

Edward's forehead puckered as he prized my hand away. "Why do you wish that?"

I closed my eyes and shook my head emphatically.

"Bella, _why_ do you wish that sweetheart?"

_Tell him!_

Oh God…

Keeping my eyes pressed firmly closed, I responded, "Because it would be easier."

"What would be easier?"

"Everything," I breathed. "I wouldn't feel like I have to relearn what I've always known. I don't know how to be emotionally reliant on somebody, Edward. You're always so nice to me and it leaves me feeling torn between being obligated to feel grateful to you for everything you're doing for me and not knowing how to really feel it in the first place. If you were horrible to me, I could just stay detached."

His fingers began dancing their way up my sides. "That doesn't sound like much of a way to live."

I smiled sadly and opened my eyes. "But it's what I know."

His sparkling green orbs sought out my muddy puddles, looking intense and just as beautiful as ever. "Sometimes change can be good."

"And sometimes it's frightening," I countered. "I'm trying to get used to you being the way you are and when you called yesterday you just sounded so mad at me."

Edward cocked his head to the side. "Is that what confused you, the switch in my demeanour? You didn't understand why I would be frustrated that you weren't picking up, because my worry for you is an alien concept?"

"Perhaps." I shrugged. "It's silly."

"How you feel isn't silly, Bella. Don't ever think that." He kissed my forehead and squeezed me to him. "Since I've got you talking, are we going to discuss yesterday morning?"

I felt my entire face heat.

"I'd rather just make the frickin' pancakes," I muttered.

Edward 'humphed', picked me up and set me down on the counter.

"I think we should talk about it."

"I think we should lock the whole ordeal up in a box and bury it at sea," I griped.

"What good would that do?" He quizzed as he started to lift the hem of his t-shirt. "It'd just wash up on some unknown shore for a stranger to find."

"True," I dragged out, momentarily perplexed by the fact that I could now see Edward's abs. "Uh, Edward?" I pointed to his now bare stomach. "What are you doing?"

The whole shirt came off.

_Back, arms, water, penis…_

Christ!

_Cannot catch a break!_

"Edward?"

"You were uncomfortable by what you saw yesterday, correct?"

Oh sweet baby Jesus.

He wouldn't!

"Relax, Bella." His hands came to rest against my thighs, opening them so that he could stand between them. "I hate that you were uncomfortable. I just want to fix it."

"By getting naked again?" My voice flew up several octaves and my eyes bugged.

He had a fine physique, that was for damn sure.

_Focus!_

"No," he chuckled. "Put your hands on my chest."

Put my hands… _what_?

"'Scuse me?"

"Put your hands on my chest."

I think he actually had smacked his head yesterday as well.

"Edward, what are you… Ohhhh." He did the work for me, his hands holding mine against… _him_.

"I'm sorry for not locking the door yesterday. I'm too used to living alone and I didn't think before I got in the shower. I know that you were embarrassed; I know that you still are. But I don't want you to be." His fingers played with mine, un-scrunching them and flattening them against his hard, muscled planes. "This," he squeezed my hands, "is nothing to be embarrassed about."

I gulped.

My fingers twitched against his smooth skin.

I looked up into his deep, penetrating eyes and saw… Edward. I saw all of him. I saw his unease, I saw his hope, I saw, perhaps for the first time ever, vulnerability.

He was unsure about how I'd react, I had no doubt. Not that I had the faintest idea how to react, you understand.

My fingers twitched again.

What was I supposed to do?

What was he telling me?

I couldn't help my embarrassment. I mean, come on, I got caught peeping. It was mortifying. And being the 'special' that I was, it seemed only natural that I'd break my pelvis in the process of seeing him, further adding to an already humiliating situation. Welcome to the life of Bella Swan, Chapter One!

I should write a 'How To' book on 'How Not To'.

The iPod switched playlists and the strumming of a guitar began to sound from the speakers.

Feeling a sudden bout of bravery, I admitted, "I don't know what you want me to do."

"What do you want to do, Bella? There are no set rules, there's no guidebook here. I just want you to see that there's absolutely no need to be anxious. It's just a body, angel. There is nothing shameful in wanting to look, or touch. I can't stand the idea of you being uncomfortable around me because of this."

He removed his hands from mine and set them on top of my thighs, his fingers flexing gently.

_I've been awake for a while now_

_You've got me feeling like a child now_

'_Cause every time I see your bubbly face_

_I get the tinglies in a silly place_

I shifted.

He wanted me to touch him?

Did I want to touch him?

Inner snorted.

S_hut up, Inner!_

There was no harm in it, right?

_It starts in my toes and I crinkle my nose_

_Wherever it goes I always know_

_That you make me smile_

_Please stay for a while now_

_Just take your time wherever you go_

Hussy ginned, baring her teeth. She started to twist her hands together in a, 'the plot thickens, mwah ha ha' kind of manner.

I was surrounded by imaginary idiots.

Stealing myself, I allowed my fingertips to flicker ever so slightly.

Edward sucked in a breath and held my gaze.

_The rain is falling on my window pane_

_But we are hiding in a safer place_

_Under covers staying safe and warm_

_You give me feelings that I adore_

His skin was warm, soft to the touch. There was no hair on his chest, he was completely smooth. And it was defined, boy was it defined. It was literally like looking at a sculptured piece of art, the lines were precise and symmetrical – perfect.

I traced the outline of his pecs cautiously, noting their hardness. My fingertips dipped and danced along their borders, gliding with ease and curiosity. I flattened my palm across his heart, feeling it live beneath my palm.

He had a fine heart, a good heart.

When I felt a slight tightening beneath my hand, I glanced down and then back up.

Raising an eyebrow, I asked, "Cold, Edward?"

I saw the smirk tugging at his lips, though he tried to fight it as he attempted to tickle away my sass.

_It starts in my toes and I crinkle my nose_

_Wherever it goes I always know_

_That you make me smile_

_Please stay for a while now_

_Just take your time wherever you go_

When the backs of my nails skimmed the length of his sides gently, I watched, awed, as Edward's entire form shuddered. I was barely touching him.

Hmm.

I did it again.

_And oh_… I think he liked that!

I trailed across his stomach, feeling the muscles tighten fractionally under my feather-light touch. I circled his bellybutton and felt the tickle of hair beneath my skin that trailed down and disappeared beneath his black sleep pants.

Edward's eyes closed, the bob of his Adam's apple was distinct as he swallowed.

This wasn't so bad after all. It wasn't scary, it was just Edward.

I eased my nails delicately back up through his trail.

I vaguely heard a muttered, 'Jesus' right before his lips sought out mine, a slight desperation to their movements.

_What am I gonna say?_

_When you make me feel this way_

_I just… mmmm_

His tongue moved languidly with mine, his hands cupped my face and he moved impossibly closer. Our breathing sped and I found myself clinging onto his bare back, digging my nails into his flesh. When he moaned, the sound buzzed and hummed within me, becoming part of me.

I felt tingly, the eclectic sparking and fusing between us was incomprehensible, becoming an entity all on its own.

It felt - no, _he_ felt incredible. He felt right. This was… _okay_. It really, actually was. I could do this.

I raked my hands up his back, pushing my chest into his and kissing back with fevered fervour. My hands clutched the back of his neck before fisting into his hair, earning me another moan. His own hands left my face and travelled down my body, coming to rest again at my thighs and squeezing tightly. They gripped and pulled me flush against him.

The kitchen was filled with sounds of heavy breathing and smacking lips and I liked it. I really, really liked it. I liked topless Edward. What's more, I liked his reactions; they spurred me on, telling me that I was doing this right.

_I've been asleep for a while now_

_You tucked me in just like a child now_

'_Cause every time you hold me in your arms_

_I'm comfortable enough to feel your warmth_

I pulled back to catch my breath and Edward's lips moved to my neck, kissing and sucking and nipping.

"Dangerous, dangerous creature," he murmured against my heated flesh.

My eyes rolled just as he hit the spot directly under my pulse point.

"Edward?" It was breezy, breathless. "You'll be late."

Blasphemy. I didn't want him to leave.

I felt his smile. "You think the boss man will get chided for tardiness?"

I let out one short, winded laugh. "What a fine example to set."

"I believe they'd understand, if they saw what I had to leave in the mornings." His tongue darted out of his mouth at the base of my throat, leaving a lingering, wet kiss there.

"We won't have time for pancakes at this rate."

Edward pulled back, his eyes alight and lively.

_It starts in my soul and I lose all control_

_When you kiss my nose the feeling shows_

'_Cause you make me smile_

_Baby just take your time now_

_Holding me tight_

"Fuck the pancakes!"

He licked his lips and came back for mine.

Oh my.

Fuck the pancakes indeed.

* * *

**End Notes:**

_*** Errare humanum est**_** – Latin for 'to err is human'. **

**Phys Ed is actually part of Columbia's Core Curriculum, I did my research ;)**

**Song: Colbie Caillat – Bubbly. http:/ www (dot) youtube (dot) com/watch?v=4FjRyV-Mqh4 **

**I have signed up to do a one shot for the Fandom for Sexual Assault Awareness. Go check out their blog, lots of fab writer's are contributing. And no, my o/s isn't AMtDR related. **

**Update – few days. **


	15. Chapter 15

**Stephanie Meyer owns Twilight, no copyright infringement intended. **

**So, **_**fuck the pancakes**_** caught on then, huh? This made me stupidly happy. **

**Thank you to Kat for her continuous support and Beta work on this beast of a chapter. All mistakes are mine. **

**Lots of love to all my girls, you know who you are. **

**Huge thanks to everybody who continues to read, review and rec. The response to chapter 14 blew me away.**

**Specail thanks to those who helped with the French!**

**I'm on holiday as of Friday for 2 weeks – WOO! So you won't be hearing from me – no internet access. Am twitching at the thought already. **

**Chapter song: Damien Jurado – Sheets.**

**Oh, and Happy Birthday Jamie C! **

* * *

"When you get to the end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on."

~ Franklin D. Roosevelt

_Chapter Fifteen_

The swim test… didn't go well.

In my defence though, snorting loudly when the coach introduced herself as, 'Coach Clapp' was hardly my fault. Of course after that, every time I'd looked at the woman, 'Gonorrhea' sprang to mind, flashing bright neon lights.

I'd found it a little amusing. She hadn't.

She made me go first as a result of the aforementioned snort.

Oops again?

I'd done my best, I really had. I'd bulleted through the water hoping to get it over and done with as quickly as possible, ignoring every bite of pain that came my way from my still aching body. But one thing or another was always to her dissatisfaction. I didn't dive properly or my technique wasn't refined enough or the lap was too slow or she missed the lap because she'd been busy watching somebody else.

I soon came to a conclusion about Coach Clapp.

She was a sadist.

Eventually, she paired me up with a member of her swim team to 'practice'. It was bull. My first lap had been fine, I knew it. I wasn't trying out for 'Swimletes' or whatever the hell you call it, I just needed to prove that I could get from one end of the pool to the other without drowning, which I had already done several times. She just wanted to make me suffer a little.

Like I said, a sadist.

I was paired with an upper classman by the name of Tyler Crowley. Tyler was nice; I took an instant liking to him. He was huge; I estimated 6'3" at the very least and he was packed full of muscle. He looked like he belonged on the football team, not the swim team, though those thoughts were dashed as soon as I saw him in the water. He was nothing more than a blur. He had beautiful dark skin, honest brown eyes, a heavy New York accent and obviously shaved his head with a razor. He was in his junior year, studying computer science and he planned to stay on to do his Masters degree in the subject as well. I think I'd made another friend.

The minute he saw my movements up close, Tyler whispered a few choice words to me about his coach. I told him an abbreviated version of what had happened to me yesterday and he was both horrified and a little in awe of my continued efforts in the water, despite the discomfort I was experiencing. He sensed my unease at being in the pool and swam with me during my laps. Every time we reached the deeper end, he'd take my arm and help me swim over to the steps, instead of watching my pathetic 'grab onto the side and drag myself to them instead' attempts. I ignored the discomfort I felt from his physical touch and concluded that it was better to just shut up and take it than to die a watery death.

When the coach finally called it a decent lap, he lifted me out of the water by my hips and set me down, gracefully pulling himself out after me. Again, I ignored my physical discomfort.

"You're fast, Swan." Coach Clapp told me as I stood up carefully, mindful to not slip. "Your technique needs a hell of a lot of work and you're like a cat in a bag while actually in the water, but you are fast."

_Because I hate the water_, I inwardly griped. The faster I swam, the quicker my time in the stupid pool was over.

"I take it you're not one for athletics?" She barked.

She sounded like a man. For real. An actual _man_.

I shook my head, "No."

Clapp scratched her chin; I had to wonder if there was a beard coming in there somewhere.

She appraised me, her beady eyes suspicious. "You could be good, you know. Real good… _if_ you practiced."

I shuddered.

_No thank you. _

"I don't think so." I began wringing the sickly smelling water from my hair. "I just needed to get through the lap for credit. I don't like swimming."

She rolled her eyes. "Well that much is damn evident, Swan. No confidence, that's your problem."

"I don't need to be confident. I have no desire to get back in the pool."

"I see. So, what's your poison gonna be then? Track, soccer, gymnastics, fencing, _aerobics_?"

I winced with each new 'sport'. Stupid core requirements. I'd have a whole year of this crap.

"That's what I thought," she said curtly, nodding.

You know the story, _The Three Billy Goats Gruff_? She sounded like the voice you adopt for the troll…

"Crowley?" Clapp snapped. "What do you think of her?"

Tyler threw a wink my way.

"Lap time's better than Maria's first was, fairly impressive given Bella's lack of confidence in the water."

Jeez, why did this suddenly feel like an assessment? I was standing right there with them! And who the heck was Maria?

"Think you could make her better?" The coach quizzed.

Tyler nodded. "Sure, Bella just needs some training. As her confidence grows, her technique will improve."

"Huh." Clapp looked thoughtful.

It scared me. I just wanted to go and get the chlorine scrubbed from my hair and body and put the whole ordeal behind me.

"Listen here, Swan. How would you feel about joining the team… _unofficially_?"

Not just a sadist after all, she was mentally challenged as well.

"I would rather be drop kicked in the face, no offence. Swimming's not exactly my forte." I shifted, angling my body toward the women's locker room.

So close…

"Yes, yes, yes. Believe me, we all see that, but you're quick. Damn quick. With a little work, you'd be fantastic. Maria's the best female on the team, she'd crap bricks if she felt threatened with a little competition, she would up her game!" Her tone became even deeper, _somehow_. "I could get you out of all Phys Ed classes for the year, if you come on board. You'll get extra credit for joining a college team and Tyler would get extra credit for helping out the team's degenerate."

I blinked.

How to respond to that?

_The team's degenerate_. Jesus.

Couldn't she just stick needles in both of my pupils and have the torture be over with already?

And she looked so smug; like she had just singlehandedly solved the issue of world hunger or something.

"Well," I frowned. "Thank you, for _that_. But I fail to see how I'd be of any use to your team. I'm a terrible swimmer."

"Way to point out the obvious, Swan." She snipped sarcastically. "I don't plan on racing you for Christ sake; I plan on using you girl. My best swimmer gets the fear of God put into her and my team wins. It's simple tactics. Meanwhile, Crowley here can help you out with your…" she twirled her massive hand about in the air, "Issues. You'll get out of Phys Ed for the year and let's face it; I'll probably be doing every other coach a huge favour. You both get extra credit, everyone's happy."

Everyone's happy? Was she insane?

"So you want to cherry pick me to be the one to cause a whole load of unnecessary drama for your team?" I think my mouth may have hit the floor. "You want to paint me as the new big bad and face the wrath of a tightly knit, highly competitive college sports team? I don't think so." I manoeuvred myself around her and hobbled my way to the locker room.

Professor Korzha, Professor Whitlock, Monsieur Laurent, now Coach Clapp… this place was becoming a cesspool for crazy academics.

"You won't be around the team, Bella." She called after me. "You can work one on one with Tyler, just you and him."

I turned to stare at her pointedly.

"Coach Clapp, I have absolutely no vested interest in becoming a target for your star attraction to lash out at. Thanks, but no thanks."

She shrugged, upturning her palms. "You'd be no more than an invisible threat. Maria will get wind of a new team member, a fast team member, and she'll work to pull out all the stops to best your times. No contact. You won't be expected to race or show up for team practices or events. You work with Tyler, just the two of you, to become a better, more confident swimmer. I'll want your lap times, that's all. No Phys Ed for the year and you can practice as little or as much as you want during the week. None of that appeals?"

I glanced at Tyler. He was trying very hard not to smile.

"You'd both gain extra credit. Being part of a college sports team, well, it looks good on a résumé, Swan. I'm also very good at writing references…" she trailed off.

Sweet Lord.

The woman had flipped her lid!

"It could be good for you, Bella. I don't need the extra credit, but I'd be happy to work with you." Tyler's smile finally broke loose.

I couldn't believe I was hearing this!

"Is this really how you run your team, coercion and sneaky tactics?" I asked her, totally aghast.

Coach Clapp began to chuckle.

And what do you know, the woman did have teeth. I was expecting fangs of some sort.

"Swan, that's all sports are. I want the best for my team. I like to win. You help me, I help you."

I shook my head, stunned.

"I need to… _go_." I turned around, desperate to get into the shower.

"So is that a yes?"

You had to give her perseverance credit, I suppose.

"I'll think about it."

(*)

I ate lunch with Tyler, Siobhan and Alistair, a philosophy student that she'd befriended yesterday. Alistair was insanely funny and a self-proclaimed 'queen'. He was flamboyant and full of life, wore colours brighter than the sun and was loud enough to hear half way across campus. He made no attempt to hide the fact that he was gay, which I had to admire about him, and spent the entire lunch hour drooling over Tyler's 'man-ceps'. Alistair liked to overuse phrases such as, 'OMG!' and, 'I was _so_ PO!' and, 'just fabulous!' He also avoided swearing like the plague by replacing each cuss word with things like, 'muthabrutha', 'ducking' and my personal favourite, 'for shizz sake!'

I really liked him. He was fun and humorous and like nobody I had ever known.

Tyler, God bless him, took the staring in stride and made us all giggle by trying to teach squeaky Alistair how to speak 'street'. Alistair, seemingly never one to refuse a challenge, had us all doubled over and desperately needing the toilet by the end of lunch. He was perhaps what you could consider a carbon copy of a certain stereotype, but he couldn't have cared less and I couldn't have enjoyed his company any more. We all exchanged numbers and split for our next classes.

Things became a little odd as I left the cafeteria though. Three older students, all men, approached me and asked if my name was Isabella Swan. When I answered yes, they began questioning whether or not I could get them 'in' with 'Cullen'.

My stomach dropped and I bolted from the food court as quickly as my legs would allow. I tried to shake it off as mere coincidence; surely they'd meant another Cullen? Apparently not. When I reached my next class, two female students advanced on me, questioning the same things about _Edward_ Cullen.

Maybe it was stupid, perhaps I was being naïve, but I tried to think nothing of it. I didn't _want_ to think anything of it so I pushed it to the back of my mind and focussed on the class that was about to start.

I loved my African Civilization professor. Zafrina Sekibo was animated, engaging, wonderfully knowledgeable and best of all, she had a kindly nature. I wish that I could say the same for my Frontiers of Science lecturer, Professor Banner. He was a plump, balding, grumpy old fart who for some reason, thought he would introduce himself to the class by rhyming off his many degrees.

One word had sprung to mind – arrogant.

He was nothing but a legend in his own mind, as far as I could tell. And like my French professor, he didn't seem to take to me one iota. Every look my way was a glare, every word spoken directly to me was practically spat and every answer I gave was wrong, even if it was right.

More students crowded me at the end of AC and the beginning of FoS, but it was the hoard laying in wait for me as I exited my Frontiers of Science class that made the alarm bells finally go off.

I was the honey pot and they were the bears.

The things they knew, the things they were asking – I felt nauseous. It was all so highly personal, invasive. They knew my full name, they seemed to know my class schedules and perhaps most shockingly of all, they knew that I _lived_ with Edward. They were like a pack of rabid dogs going after a juicy steak. They fired question after question at me. All of them had wondrous looks in their eyes, as though talking to the partner of a world famous actor. They wanted to know if Edward was taking on interns, they questioned whether _I_ could convince him to up the work experience placements at his New York office, a few of them had even taken to loudly announcing their names and asking me to put in a, 'good word with Cullen'.

When a small group started to trail behind me as I was leaving campus for the day, I'd officially had enough.

I called Edward.

"_Hi sweetheart,"_ he answered after the second ring. _"I'm in a meeting right now, can I call you back?"_

Well crap!

"Uh…" I bit my lip and glanced behind me. They were still there and it was freaking me out.

Could it wait? Was it really important enough to disrupt his meeting?

Oh God, I didn't know!

"_Bella? Are you alright?"_

No.

"Edward, I think something's wrong."

He'd asked me for honesty earlier, asked that I always talk to him, come to him if I needed to. Now seemed like one of those times.

"_What's happened?"_ His tone shifted, it was no longer sweetly greeting. _"Are you okay? Is it your head?"_

"No, I'm fine, my head's fine." I tried to reassure. "It's… I…"

How to explain?

"I'm being followed, I think. Kind of."

Silence.

"Edward?"

"_Where are you?"_ He demanded.

"I'm about to leave campus, but they're still there."

"_What do you mean they?" _

"There's a group of them, four, I think." I shifted nervously. "Edward, they know that I'm living with you. I've had students approaching me all afternoon, asking me to do them all favours."

"_What?"_ It was clipped, icy.

"The first few found me at the end of lunch, over in Learner Hall. They were asking about you. And there have been random groups showing up before and after my classes as well. I don't know what to do."

"_Are you on your own?"_

I swallowed. "Yes."

"_Where are you, exactly?"_

"At the entrance to Morningside, should I just go home?"

"_No,"_ I could hear a lot of murmuring in the background. _"Stay right there."_

He hung up.

Double crap!

I angled my body sideways and from the corner of my eye, I could see the group were still rooted to their spots. What exactly were they planning on doing? Did they intend to follow me home, check out the address? See if Edward really lived there?

I shuddered. That was too frightening to even comprehend.

An uneasy twenty minutes must have passed by when one of them, a gangly male in his mid-twenties, worked up the courage to finally approach me.

"Isabella Swan?" He asked.

My jaw flexed and my responding, 'yes' was hissed at him. I was officially fed up. This week was going from bad to worse.

"Uh…" He scratched the back of his head. "Sorry to disturb you and all, but is it true?"

What an infinitely stupid question to ask!

"Is what true?" I ground out.

He shifted uncomfortably, glancing back at his rabble.

"Oh, y'know… the thing about Edward Cullen?"

I swear, my eye twitched.

I opened my mouth to respond with something highly sarcastic and snarky, but my pent up aggravation was cut short.

"And of what interest is Edward Cullen to _you_?"

My head shot up and rounded onto the very large, very intimidating form of Emmett McCarty.

Oh Emmett.

I could have dropped to my knees and kissed his feet. My saviour. I didn't even have time to question his sudden appearance, my unmistakable relief rocketed through me and I could have dived on all ninety feet of him without another care. My hero.

He was scary looking in his black jeans, leather biker boots and grease smeared white wife-beater. The thick, black tribal tattoos veining their way across his arms, shoulders and chest left me in no doubt that to the group and every other passerby, he screamed trouble.

When his massive bear paw reached out to me, bringing me into his goliath form, I gladly went without hesitation.

"Well?" Emmett barked, making the guy in front of us jump.

"I was just… we were wondering if…" he stuttered.

Emmett's eyes narrowed. "Wondering what, Rain Man? Wondering if you could harass a freshman student all afternoon? Follow her around between classes and make her uncomfortable?" His hulking body pulled me behind him and he stepped forward. "Stalk her as she leaves campus? Exactly what were you planning on doing after that, seeing her all the way home?"

The guy fidgeted with his glasses nervously. "N-no, we just wanted to talk to her."

"What could you possibly have to say to Isabella? Do you know each other?"

"No, but-"

"Do you have a class together?"

He scoffed. It was brave of him. "I'm a graduate student, I don't think so."

Emmett's immense back tensed. "So you don't know Isabella, you have no classes together, yet you felt a sudden compulsion to randomly come over and speak to her today?"

"Look, we all got the email, okay? Don't go shooting the messenger or whatever," he held up his hands defensively.

"No, not _whatever_," Emmett growled. "Didn't your Mamma ever teach you that following girls around was wrong? That scaring them and making them feel threatened was a big friggin' hell no?"

Oh dear God.

I'd released Rambo.

"Emmett," I reached out to tug on his arm. "It's fine, really. Can we just go?"

The student began fiddling with his messenger bag, clearly anxious. His three stooges didn't seem to know where to look or what to do.

_Me neither_, I thought reflectively.

"We weren't making her feel threatened, we were just curious-"

"The fuck you weren't, you spindly little prick!" Emmett erupted. "How the hell would you know? Are you the one being followed around and pestered by strangers? Are you?"

The student shook his head, his eyes bugging from their sockets.

"No, I didn't think so. I'll ask you again, do you think it's okay to skulk about outside a stranger's class and trail after her as she's leaving campus alone, you moron? How in the name of Almighty Christ did you think she would feel?"

"W-we didn't mean any harm," the growing-ever-more-petrified-by-the-second man responded. "We got the email at lu-"

"What email?" Came a familiar, yet cold sounding voice.

I turned to find Edward approaching us, looking furious.

Oh my.

His black suit jacket was open and flapping as he walked, his crisp white shirt was unbuttoned at the collar and he had one hand buried in his deliciously fitted pants pocket. While his words were directed at the soon-to-be-Emmett's-dinner victim, his eyes were trained solely on me, assessing and questioning, always caring. I could do nothing but stare at his clothed chest as he moved, inadvertently licking my lips as I remembered this morning's escapades. He'd kept me seated on top of the counter as we shared a plate of pancakes, minus Edward's shirt.

Hands down the most delectable pancakes, ever. The view hadn't been so bad either.

He reached me and his arm snaked out around my shoulders, curling me straight into his body as he kissed my temple.

"Are you alright?" He whispered.

I did nothing but nod in response, inhaling his scent deeply.

_Home. _

"I believe I asked you a question," Edward's gaze finally shifted to the student for the first time. "I've just walked out of a very important meeting to come up here, my patience is sorely lacking."

Holy cow… he was really furious. I could see it in the flexing of his jaw, the narrowing of his eyes, his rigid bodily stance. Angry Edward Cullen, up close and personal. It was certainly something to behold.

The older student did nothing but blink. I was starting to feel sorry for the poor sap.

Edward sighed. "Em, could you take Bella home please? I believe we," he stared pointedly at the dazed man, "have some business to sort out with Collins."

"Sure thing." Emmett started backing up, keeping his gaze trained ahead of him. "If I ever hear that you've given her problems again, I think you and I are going to be having a little discussion, comprende?"

The student cleared his throat and attempted a dignified nod. He looked terrified. I couldn't blame him.

Surreal was most definitely the word de jour.

Edward turned into me, his lips pressed firmly against my hair. "Emmett will take you home; I'll be back as soon as I've gotten this disaster cleared up."

"Alright," I whispered. "Edward, I'm so sorry. I don't know what happened."

He hooked a finger underneath my chin and made me look up at him. "Don't you dare apologise. I'll see you in a little bit, okay?"

"Okay."

He kissed me lightly on the lips before turning and walking towards the group. "You four, with me."

I watched him stalk further into the college's beautiful grounds, positively radiating power as the four saplings tailed behind him meekly, yet utterly fascinated by him. I couldn't blame them for that, either. It was the Edward Cullen effect.

Emmett's arm came to rest around my shoulders as we both watched their retreating forms disappear from sight. He squeezed me into him reassuringly.

"He'll get it straightened out, Bella."

I bit my lip. "I don't know how they found out. I haven't said anything to anyone. It was so weird."

"You didn't know any of them?"

"No, none." I shook my head vehemently. "I don't understand. Who are they and what the hell did they want with me?"

Emmett snorted. "I'm gonna take a really wild guess here and say they're architecture students."

I frowned and looked up at him. "But I'm not."

"No, but you know Edward, who's a big ass deal in his field." He smiled sympathetically down at me. "Getting Cullen Architecture on your résumé, Bella, it's like gold dust for these kids. They study his work here. I really hate to say it little one, but I think you've just been fed to the wolves."

(*)

My personal record had been leaked and emailed to every architecture student at Columbia. Every. Single. One.

Name.

Age.

Birth date.

Current address.

Home address.

Emergency contacts.

School Grades.

My GPA.

Class schedules.

Tuition details.

Personal references.

The picture I'd had to provide to go in my file.

My student ID number.

My student email address and password.

Everything. All of it. Even my allergy to cats was now known to these strangers.

Of course, when I say that it had all been sent to every architecture student, I didn't mean just those studying architecture. My file had been copied and emailed to every student attending GSAPP – Columbia's Graduate School of Architecture, Planning and Preservation. That included not only those studying architecture, but those doing their Master's in Urban Planning, Historic Preservation, Real Estate Development and everything else in between. We weren't talking small numbers. We were talking about hundreds of students.

Edward was livid.

I was numb.

My student email account, according to Columbia's IT team, had already been accessed over fifty times since lunch. I hadn't looked at my email today.

An emergency meeting was being held over in the Learner Auditorium first thing tomorrow morning. Edward would be there, as would every GSAPP student. I hadn't known it before, but Edward was one the schools' major financial benefactors. He gave them millions of dollars each year. A good portion of that money went toward financial aid for said students, helping out with tuition costs and even awarding full graduate scholarships to those with the most promise. I had a feeling Edward did it because of his own troubles with funding way back when. He wanted to help.

He was now threatening to stop all funding immediately. Suffice to say that Professor Clint Collins, the school's dean, was taking the matter very seriously.

It was an absolute nightmare. James, Emmett and Edward had been tucked away in his office all evening trying to track down the perpetrator. They weren't having much luck. Everything was sent from a phantom account, seemingly on a personal computer that couldn't be traced through the college's system. Said account had since been deleted.

I'd been hiding out in the kitchen ever since arriving home, pouring over school work to keep my mind occupied. The idea of my privacy being breached in such a callous way was unnerving and I found myself trying to do anything and everything to stop thinking on it. I had already completed the complicated Lit Humanities worksheet on The Iliad and I'd finished my research on Ancient African civilisations for Professor Sekibo. My French presentation had been keeping me suitably occupied for the past hour.

It was after nine when I heard Edward say a quick goodbye to the others, closing the front door loudly after them and making his way down to the kitchen.

I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to know anything about the leak. Like everything else, I wanted to bury it, forget about it.

I had my head stuck in my French dictionary when I felt him perch his chin on my right shoulder.

"Do you want to hear it?"

"Nope!" I popped the 'p', absentmindedly leaning my head against his cheek.

He hummed and nuzzled into my neck.

"Edward?"

He kissed the shell of my ear. "Bella?"

I rolled my eyes.

"How would you say…" I glanced down at my notebook. "Learning a foreign language can improve a person's employment potential and help businesses to effectively compete in a global economy, but in French?"

I felt him smile against my skin. "What have they got you learning up there?"

I very nearly groaned. "My French Professor doesn't seem to like me very much. I have to do a presentation tomorrow on why learning a second language is beneficial and opportunistic."

"Is everyone doing a presentation?"

I shrugged. "Not that I know of."

"What's his name?"

"Laurent," I stifled a yawn. I felt beat.

"Apprendre une langue étrangère peut améliorer le potentiel d'emploi d'une personne et aider une entreprise à faire jouer la concurrence efficacement dans une économie mondialisée," he rhymed off easily.

"Huh?"

He fiddled with my notebook, bringing it closer to the edge to read over my shoulder. "That's how you say it in French. Apprendre une langue étrangère peut améliorer le potentiel d'emploi d'une personne et aider une entreprise à faire jouer la concurrence efficacement dans une économie mondialisée."

He took my pen from me and began scrawling across the page in his elegant script. He started making alterations to my pathetic attempts at translating the passage myself, correcting spelling and at times, crossing entire sentences out and rewriting them. He'd finished all of it in less than five minutes. It would've taken me hours. It would also have been really, _really_ wrong judging by the multitude of cross out's and lines now adorning my page.

He set the pen down. "Do you have any prompt cards?"

"No, I could make some though." I glanced up at him, deep in thought and chewing on my lip.

His thumb moved up towards it and gently prized it from between my teeth. "One of these days," he kissed the corner of my mouth. "You are going to pierce right through this," he kissed the other side. "I'll go and get my laptop."

An hour later, we were both sitting at the breakfast bar going over my freshly printed cards. Edward had been amazing. He'd helped me with each one and we added a somewhat phonetically helpful set of prompts to assist me with my pronunciation to the top of every card. He threw random words my way every minute or so and asked me to not only pronounce them, but to tell him what they meant. I was actually feeling confident about doing the presentation. I couldn't believe it. And I could remember, to a degree, what I was saying.

As I finished re-reading through the entire thing for the fourth time, I looked up proudly, stupid grin in place, to find Edward staring at me oddly.

"What?"

He was doing that drool-worthy thing again where he held his face between his thumb and pointer finger and ran his middle finger across his lips.

I tried not to stare, for the most part unsuccessfully.

His eyes were intensely green as he cocked his head slightly to one side and murmured, "Tu es incroyable."

My forehead puckered.

I didn't know that one, though I wracked and pillaged my mind for the answer. I started scanning my cards, thinking perhaps that I had forgotten.

"Voilà un avantage que nous n'avions pas vu." He whispered. "Je pourrais rester assis toute la soirée à te faire des compliments et pour une fois tu ne serais pas embarrassée."

It wasn't on the freakin' cards!

"Edward, that one isn't on the cards."

"Par exemple, je pourrais te dire combien tu es belle à mes yeux sans que tu ne prennes une mine renfrognée et que tu ne détournes le regard."

I flipped and scanned and flipped some more.

"That one isn't on the cards, either. You're not playing fair, I can't keep up with you and your infuriatingly fluent tongue."

He smirked. "Tu es tellement adorable qu'il est difficile d'être en colère contre toi malgré tout ce qui s'est passé, tu sais ça?"

I narrowed my eyes at him. "What are you saying?"

"Tout ce que tu ne veux pas que je te dise," he breathed. "Je suis un homme extrêmement chanceux de vous avoir rencontrée, Mademoiselle Swan."

Miss Swan?

Was he talking directly to me and expecting an answer?

I couldn't answer him when I didn't know what he was saying!

I snatched up my dictionary, giving him a sideways glower of frustration, and began flickering through the pages. It would be a slow slog, but I'd get there eventually.

"Je n'ai jamais vu quelqu'un qui avait autant de détermination et d'entêtement que toi," Edward chuckled.

Alright, I got 'you' out of that. Just a few more words to go…

He stood up and leaned over me, delicately taking the dictionary from my hands. "Enough French for one night, I think. You'll do wonderfully."

I humphed. "Welcome back."

"I never left," he ran a hand through my hair. "Tout ce que je désire est juste ici."

"Is this one of those horrible instances where I'm supposed to gaze all dreamily up at you only to later realise you were actually telling me I smelled like a wet dog?"

Because, realistically, on a scale of one to ten, I'd be relatively peeved if that was the case.

His returning grin was mega-watt.

"No, Bella."

(*)

I was relieved to have finally made it to Friday. It was the end of the week, thank God!

Yesterday had been the worst of them all. You just kind of know that your day is going to be a bad one when a pre-op transsexual clambers drunkenly onto the subway wearing leather chaps, cheap gold stilettos, a pink sparkly wig and proceeds to stick his hairy man parts into your direct line of vision.

Just to reiterate – there was frig all underneath the chaps.

Scarred. For life. That experience damaged me more than Bathroom Gate.

Yes, things actually went downhill from there, if you could believe that.

I had eventually caved into Coach Clapp's offer. In my defence, I'd taken one look at my scheduled badminton class and nearly had a seizure just thinking about the injuries I would walk away with. They always claimed the racket to the face was an accident. It was _never_ an accident.

I had to spend an uncomfortable hour between my morning classes listening to Professor Collins apologise to me, repeatedly. Allegedly, their IT people had been working hard to eliminate all traces of the email that was sent out. They could try and chase it all they wanted, I knew better. That information was now a ghost. All it took was a copy and paste job to save it all onto hard drive and it would leave the email valueless anyway. Instead of cutting the students funding, Edward had sneakily tried to appeal to the masses. He had spoken to the students in the auditorium and offered to take on five summer internships spanning a three month period, for anyone who came forth with any useful information. I wished him well with that, suddenly everybody seemed to know a little something. Yes, that was sarcasm.

Of course, a lot of the students had taken it upon themselves to approach _me_ with said information. Some of them had cruelly started mewling at me like a litter of mangy cats. Bastards. Luckily, the eclectic little group of friends I'd made sensed that something was off and had stepped in. Tyler in particular, was taking no prisoners and Alistair had taken to shouting 'shoo' at them all, while waving them off with his orange painted fingernails. They were longer than mine. And in better condition.

The house phone rang continuously during the evening. What with my emergency contact being Edward, the mass of students now had not only his home phone number, but his personal office line and his Blackberry number. He had to change them all. He was not happy. They also had his address. He'd had to call the police and let them know. The students were left without a doubt that anyone caught loitering outside of his home would be picked up by the cops. I wish I could say that the threat of this had perturbed them enough into staying away from Edward's home, but it hadn't. Three were picked up late last night.

My opinion of my French professor continued to spiral downhill rapidly after lunch yesterday. I did my presentation and considering it was my first real shot at speaking the language, I was actually rather proud of myself. I hadn't made too many slips and while my pronunciation needed a great deal of work, I thought I'd done relatively well. He hadn't. I was admonished for needing prompt cards and scolded for _butchering_ his mother tongue. I was beginning to think that nothing I ever did would be good enough for a man who was so evidently full of himself.

Oh, and of course there was Professor Korzha. He'd made an example out of me during Lit Humanities by announcing that I was the only one who had understood our assignment. I was mortified. To add insult to injury, he'd set another Iliad focussed assignment for the entire class and proceeded to _Professor Snape_ his way through the projects instructions, explaining to everybody that they could thank, 'the insufferable know-it-all Miss Swan' for showing them all up.

I'd wanted to die.

Yes, it had certainly been quite a week. Today had actually gone rather smoothly. Banner had a stick up his butt again and I had to swim, but compared to the last few days, it felt like heaven. I was grateful for the break.

I was practically skipping toward the campus gates to leave at two o'clock when I spotted a familiar head of red hair waiting for me.

She barely stopped long enough to hug me before I was being dragged off to go shopping. I was inwardly a little put out; my plans to curl up on Edward's sofa and read for a few hours had been dashed. Though I appreciated her sentiment, she'd left work early hoping to cheer me up.

It wasn't actually so bad. Vicky had a knack for keeping me engaged and ultimately, she was just good company. We even managed to get me a birthday dress, stranger still - I had chosen it. I was less thrilled with the outfit she'd insisted I get for tonight. Tyler had asked us all out, something dangerous sounding about an over 18's club and dancing. I'd opted out for fear of a hospital visit. Vicky was somewhat adamant that I opt myself back in. The outfit was terrifying – tight, black, sexy. I didn't do sexy. It wasn't in my vocabulary.

We both tumbled through the front door a little before six that evening, shopping bags galore, wide grins in place and feeling much, much lighter.

"God, you should have seen Edward's face!" Vicky snort-laughed. "Came out and the barbecue's up in flames, James is standing there holding a spatula and looking like he'd been up a chimney, sporting no eyebrows of course. Oh and Emmett! He's just blinking, trying to figure out what to do with the can of lighter fluid he was holding!"

My stomach clenched painfully, but in the best way. It felt amazing to laugh so hard.

"How did they not _die_?"

Vicky shook her head and swiped at her eyes. "Christ knows. Edward was _not_ amused."

"I can imagine!" I threw down about fifty bags and flexed my fingers. "I need a drink. Do you need to get going or…?"

"Cocktails!" She pointed dramatically toward the kitchen stairs. "It's Friday, we should shake up a batch of margaritas and get you all ready for tonight."

Ugh.

"Vic, I don't even think I want to go."

"Why on earth not? You've got an outfit that would make grown men weep and killer heels to own, you should go out and enjoy yourself, Bella. You and Edward are far too much alike, two old souls. Go out and paint that town red. I'll take full credit if the geriatric has a heart attack when he sees you."

I was about to respond when I heard footsteps sounding on the stairs above us.

Throwing a curious glance Vicky's way, I asked, "Is Edward home?"

She adjusted her bags and placed them all lightly onto the floor. "No, he's working a little late tonight. He said not to expect him until seven."

"James?" He and Vicky had their own key to Edward's house. Had he been sent to pick something up from the home office?

She stepped closer to me, shaking her head. "No, they needed to put in an extra couple of hours on the Sydney project. He would've called."

"Emmett?"

She frowned.

"No, he would've called Edward first and Edward would have called us."

My blood turned cold.

There were only three keys given out to Edward's home, I owned the third one. Did that mean… Oh Lord, was there a burglar in the house? Christ, wouldn't that just be the end to a terrific week?

_Hi Edward, I know that you've already had aneurysm after aneurysm, but I thought you ought to know - you've also been robbed. Hurry home. _

Vicky pulled out her cell and hastily began fiddling with the buttons.

The footsteps got louder as they walked across the upstairs landing.

"No calls, no messages," she mumbled quietly, as if to herself.

I sucked in a deep, fearful breath as I glanced back up, waiting. Had some of the students broken in?

We were right by the front door; we could bolt if we had to. But maybe, hopefully, it was just Emmett who'd stopped by unexpectedly. Maybe. I caught Vicky's gaze and tried to convey a _we could run_ message using my eyes. Her head turned quickly when a light, feminine laugh began to tinkle from the top of the stairs.

Following her movements, my eyes landed on Rosalie. And one other.

I wanted to weep. I would've preferred a burglar to the hot-headed sociopath, I mean sister. Vicky had been filling me in on a few past stories while we were out. I think the snake woman was seriously unhinged.

"Oh, it's _you_," Edward's strange sibling wrinkled her nose, almost as though she'd just sniffed at something foul as she continued to descend. "We were expecting Edward."

I shook my head, confused.

Was I seeing things? I didn't think she was allowed in Edward's home. He hadn't mentioned anything about her being here tonight. Had it slipped his mind? Had he told Vicky to expect her?

I looked to her for answers.

I found none.

"Funny, Edward didn't mention anything about either of you _stopping_ _by_." Her tone turned frosty, unwelcoming. A far cry from the warm, affable tones I'd been treated to these past few hours.

So she wasn't supposed to be here? This was going to go down just swimmingly with Edward.

Rosalie waved a hand dismissively. "We wanted to surprise him."

I watched, awed, as Vicky took a step my way, directly in front of me. Her slight form seemed to become threateningly huge all of a sudden, like her hackles were rising protectively to ward off danger.

I swallowed. Perhaps Edward's ire wouldn't be needed.

"I'm sure _surprised_ is one of the last things you'll need to worry about him feeling, Rose. What are you doing here?"

Rosalie smirked, her eyes flickering to mine momentarily. "Like I said, we wanted to surprise him. Kate has something to give him; I suggested we do it in person. I was just showing her some of the changes he's been making to the upstairs, actually."

The remaining slivers of my good mood fell away instantly.

The only changes Edward had made were, well – me. Me and my room.

They'd been in my room.

She had been in my room, again.

She had taken a damn stranger into _my_ room.

I felt a slight stirring of unease, but mostly, mostly it was overshadowed by my disbelief at the woman's utter gall. Did she have no concept of boundaries, at all?

"I see. I'm sure Edward will be delighted to hear that," Vicky replied derisively. "Just what was it you needed to give him?"

The other woman, this Kate person who had just been _in my room_, stepped forward then, smiling sweetly.

"My fault," she placed a well manicured hand over her heart. "Edward had mentioned needing a plus one for the wedding last week, I just wanted to drop off the new invite, for Bella, is it?" Her perfectly shaped eyebrows raised in a friendly, questioning sort of manner.

I would've answered, really I would have. Unfortunately, I was wracking my brain for any previous mention of a wedding that Edward wanted me to attend. I was coming up blank. I presumed it was this woman's wedding, this Kate's? Was she a family friend I was yet to meet? Surely if we were going to a wedding, Vicky would have been asked to help me choose a dress today? Unless it was still a while off…

Of course, none of that answered why she'd just been in my bedroom.

"I'm sorry, Bella. I'm being very rude," Vicky turned around to face me, her posture stiff. "You two haven't met. Kate Denali, this is Edward's Bella. Bella, this is Kate Denali, _Edward's ex_."

I blinked.

His what now?

I blinked some more.

Vicky's jaw clenched and she turned back to the intruders.

Edward's ex? As in, his ex girlfriend? Ex as in, the ex factor that was now colliding with the present factor?

Surely to God she was joking, right?

Judging by the lack of denial coming from all parties present, she wasn't.

I suddenly wanted to laugh. I could feel the humourless, maniacal giggle bursting its way up my windpipe and threatening to break loose. The only thing this week was currently missing was my warped mother's appearance. That would be the flaming icing on the cake that went to crap, wouldn't it?

My would be murder victim wilted right before my eyes, like a flower that was unable to support the weight of its opening petals, I watched as layer by layer, she lost her happy bloom.

_That_ was Edward's ex?

As I gazed at her with large, bugged eyes, I realised that I had never felt so inadequate before. Not ever. Not in my whole life.

What in the name of sanity was he doing with me when he'd had her? We were like a separate species.

She didn't have a single, white blonde hair out of place. She could certainly have given Rosalie a run for her money in the beauty department. Her hair was straight and perfect, her blue eyes were crystal gems, her facial features were bizarrely symmetrical and flawlessly matched, every inch of her looked immaculate and she had a figure that even I knew men would fawn over. Her clothing alone looked like it could have covered a year of my college tuition. The cream designer dress adorning her body was finely fitted; the pleated skirt enhanced her hips and fell to just above her knees. The navy pumps on her feet gave her an extra few inches over my slight form and the matching over-large bag positioned just so in the crease of her elbow was like a smack in the face to my total lack of self styling. Even her jewellery matched… _everything_.

I absentmindedly began rubbing the little wheelchair charm Edward had given to me on Wednesday morning between my thumb and pointer finger.

She was the classy style magazine; I was the student campus newsletter.

The only thing I seemed to have on this woman was my obvious youth, and right now, that felt like a big fat _in your face_ negative.

She looked like a lady while I was taking up the rear as the tramp.

My self-esteem plummeted to new, despairing depths.

The silence was deafeningly awkward. I sure as hell didn't know how I was supposed to respond to that – to her. Edward had never even mentioned an ex before, looking at her now, I could probably guess at why. And he was going to her wedding? I had to assume then that they were still on very good terms with one another. But he wanted me to go with him?

Oh, I wasn't so sure if I was comfortable with that.

Vicky was the one to finally break the stillness that had overcome us all, though Rosalie's smug smirk seemed to grow ever larger with each passing second.

"So, a wedding invite for Bella? And personally delivered? That was considerate of you."

Kate snapped back into her previous cheerful disposition right away, though to me it seemed, I don't know, false? Like she was trying hard to put up this façade of, 'Oh, aren't we all just happy and wonderful!'

But we weren't. This was uncomfortable. Majorly so.

"Well I bumped into Rosie while having lunch at the PA Café and we got to talking, and well, she suggested we swing by here and try to catch Edward after work. I was just going to mail the invite, but, well…" She beamed, doing a little head jiggle movement that reminded me Nicole Kidman's part in _The Stepford Wife_. Come to think of it, that's exactly what the woman looked like – a Stepford Wife. She was almost too perfect, if you could believe such a thing.

"Park Avenue, Rose? You do get around to mingle, don't you?" I could hear the sarcastic undertones dripping from every single one of Vicky's words.

Rosalie's returning smile was tight, thrown in with a little, 'hmm'. "You should try it some time; you might find yourself keeping better company."

_Self-worth, say hello to your new home – 'rock bottom'. Get comfortable, it may be a long stay. _

"I think I'll pass," Vicky responded derisively. "I take it the wedding plans are coming along, Kate?"

There was that head jiggle again. And the smile. Didn't her jaw hurt smiling like that all the time?

"Oh yes!" She gushed. "Poor Garrett's just sick of hearing about seating arrangements and flowers!"

So would I be, if the jiggle happened every time they came up… Her brain must feel like it was constantly being _blended_.

"Speaking of," Kate's blindingly white teeth presented themselves to me. "Edward will be sitting with the wedding party, so I've put you next to his parents. I figured they would be more familiar for you. Wouldn't want you getting stuck next to my Aunt Bess and being bored to tears with tales from the good old days!"

I think I may have had an aneurysm of my own as she giggled at her own, uh… wit?

I hadn't even met his parents. Couldn't I have Aunt Bess instead? I liked stories.

Rosalie looked close to bursting with sinister glee. "It'll be a chance for you all to _really_ get to know each other!"

"Oh yes, of course!" Kate enthused, clapping her hands together and bringing them into her chest. "Edward would love for you to all get close, Esme's such a nice lady!"

Not from what I'd heard…

Either Kate was an incredible actress and just as emotionally disturbed as Rosalie, or she was mind-numbingly stupid and utterly unaware of what was going on here.

I think my face had tinged green.

"Remind me, what's the date again?" Vicky asked subtly.

Kate's answer was instant. "December 11th, pray for snow!"

I'd pray for snow - to snow me in. I didn't want to go.

"Oh," Vicky dragged out slowly. "Bella, don't you have exams before Christmas?"

I wracked my brain and pulled up Columbia's academic calendar. Student study days began December 14th, on the Tuesday. Professor Sekibo had mentioned something about an exam around that day, just before college broke for Christmas.

"Um," I started quietly. "I think they start on the 14th."

Rosalie rolled her eyes. "I'm sure you can take a break for _one_ day. It's going to be the New York wedding of the year."

Kate looked delighted by her words. "It really will be, you have to come!"

I was really starting to struggle picturing Edward with this woman. Sure, they would've looked like quite a pair, but she seemed kind of… I don't know. Vapid sounded a little harsh, but at the same time perfect. Empty. She seemed empty. Like there was nothing in her except her wedding talk and that plastered on smile. I couldn't see Edward and her on the couch cuddled up and reading the same book, like we had been last night. I couldn't picture her asking him to explain the mechanics of designing a building and enjoying his enthusiasm when he did, whereas I had sat enraptured by his words countless times and always wanted to know more. I couldn't imagine them having much conversation or playfully debating politics in the mornings over eggs, like we had done this past week. I couldn't imagine her with a charm bracelet full of memories on her wrist, because it may have clashed with the emeralds in her ears. And I definitely couldn't see her sitting on a kitchen worktop spattered with pancake batter as Edward fed her bites and kissed her glossy lips after every, single swallow.

Ultimately, I just couldn't see it.

How odd. I had to wonder how long they were together. Had they been serious about one another? Granted, she seemed nice. A little overzealous about her wedding, but then I had to suppose many women were ecstatically happy to talk about their big day. It was a monumental moment for many people. Personally, I didn't see the appeal. But maybe that was just my young mind's way of seeing things. She had to be closer to Edward's age, an age where typically, most wanted to settle down, right?

But I still had a niggle. Pleasant as she seemed, there just didn't appear to be much substance to her, no depth. I couldn't place the Edward Cullen that I'd come to know these past few weeks, with somebody like her. How on earth did an intellectual like Edward bind himself to a… _robot_? Edward was a complex man, but he was also an emotional one in the simplest of ways. He felt wholeheartedly and was overly giving in his sentiment. I hadn't once heard Kate gush about how wonderful her husband-to-be was; all I'd heard was talk of how fantastical her wedding day would be.

"When is Edward getting home?" Rosalie asked, looking at her manicured nails fanned out in front of her face. "No offence, but we came to see him."

_And my room, apparently._ I added internally, mustering every ounce of snark that I could spare.

"Him, or the changes he'd made to the house?" Vicky questioned, almost as if reading my mind.

Spooky.

Stepford shifted in her sky-high pumps. "I love what he's done with the upstairs bedroom! It's about time he put it to use, though I had no idea he'd taken in a boarder. He must like you Bella!"

I nearly choked on my tongue.

"Forgive me if I'm speaking out of turn here," Vicky rushed in before I killed myself. "But isn't it generally a little rude to be poking about in other people's private space? I mean, nosing around in a stranger's bedroom, it's a little… discourteous, is it not?"

Stepford's eyes widened.

"Oh, we meant no harm. I was only curious about the changes; Rosie said that Edward had done some remodelling."

"Right," Vicky said slowly. "So if Edward was to somehow find a key to your apartment, it would be perfectly alright with you for Bella to go take a peek at your bedroom while you were out? The place you sleep and dress and keep your personal belongings, you'd be comfortable with that?"

Even from where I was standing, I could see the bob in Kate's throat as she gulped inaudibly.

"And Rosalie?" Vicky continued. "_No offence_, but I thought Edward had asked you not to come back here?"

Medusa reappeared, her snake counterparts having just woken up from a nice long nap and ready to hiss and spit their way through their stretching exercises.

"I don't need to schedule an appointment to see my own brother!" She snapped, glaring in our direction. "If I want to drop by and surprise him, I will."

Vicky's hands went up defensively. "Alright. I'll call and let him know that you're both here." She turned to face me. "Bella? Why don't you take your things upstairs and start getting ready?"

She didn't need to ask me twice!

I snatched up by bags as quickly as I could and bolted for the staircase, probably much too fast to be considered socially acceptable.

"It was lovely to meet you, Bella!" Kate called after me. "I hope to see you at the wedding!"

_I'd be more comfortable having bamboo shoots forced underneath my fingernails. _

I sank against my closed door and took a deep, calming breath. My fingers were actually shaking so I walked to my bed and threw my plastic burdens down onto it. It was then that I noticed the photo album from my first week here, spread open and left on my night stand – out of its usual place on the shelf beneath it. It was opened to the page displaying a picture of Edward and I on the Staten Island Ferry, right up against the railings. He had his arms wrapped around my waist and was pointing toward Lady Liberty, looking absorbed in our little bubble of happiness.

I felt sick.

The album certainly didn't paint a picture of _boarder and landlord_.

I had to get out of here.

(*)

I felt better in the bathroom, where there were locks. Nobody could get me in here. I'd brought in everything I would need, showered, shaved and shampooed, and had started to get ready in relative peace. My mind wouldn't shut up, but at least I couldn't be physically disturbed in here. The bathroom door had just become my new best friend.

My hair was flowing down my back in soft waves and I'd even managed to apply a little makeup with only minor damage done to my corneas. Mascara was a bitch. I'd thrown that eye pencil thing that Vicky had insisted on straight in the trash can, I didn't want a glass eye at the grand old age of eighteen.

I tore the tags from the, gulp, rather racy lingerie I'd picked up in some frightening part of Saks. The set was black and silky and had pretty silver embroidery on it; the panties bunched up at the sides and had dangling ties hanging down. I was mortified just to put them on. They looked so UN-ME!

Maybe that was a good thing. Perhaps. _The shame_. I was wearing sexy panties. Vicky called them 'pulling panties'. I wanted to cry.

I took a deep breath for the next part of tonight's ensemble – a black, partially sequined bodysuit that when on, became like a second skin. I was a brave woman. The lady in the store said she envied me for being able to, and I quote, 'pull that off!' I wasn't so sure. It slipped on like a perfectly fitted glove and while the expensive material felt like the softest cashmere against me skin, I refused to glance in the mirror. Not yet. I would not lose my nerve; I had to get out of here for a while.

Next on went the black skinny jeans, and when I say skinny, I meant _skinny_. Tight was an understatement. If it wasn't for the just visible buttons, you'd have thought my legs had mysteriously turned black. It was like they were literally painted on. I fiddled with the zipper and popped the button closed.

Ta da!

Right, now for my nemesis.

Little bastards. I could see the box mocking me on the floor, on the other side of the bathroom, where I may have kicked it.

Yves Saint Lau… something or other. He was no saint in my books.

I edged closer and used my big toe to flip the lid of the box off cautiously. The plum colour of the ludicrously high peep toed heels was deceptive in its pretty purple shade. Tonight, these shoes would decide whether I lived the rest of my days in a wheelchair or not.

I might have growled.

I strapped myself in, for better or worse – likely worse – and practiced walking the length of the bathroom a little, careful not to slip and clinging to the walls desperately.

Huh. Not so bad after all.

Returning to the counter, I slipped in some Swarovski tear drop earrings that had been an early birthday present from Vicky and James and then reattached my charm bracelet to my wrist. My wheelchair charm seemed to be smirking at me. I added a light spritz of perfume and finally left the bathroom.

The track on my iPod was just starting to switch as I walked over the threshold into my room and I sighed when I recognised the sombre sounding guitar notes of Damien Jurado.

I think the heavens were mocking me.

_Is he still coming around like an injured bird needing a nest_

_A place to rest his head in a song you'll regret_

Except it wasn't a he…

And there were two of them.

_Still you take him_

_Lord knows I don't want to compete_

_But still I sleep in the very sheets he's been in_

_No, I don't want to compete! _I mentally chanted to Damien. I really, really didn't. Yet I was still inwardly warring with myself having been introduced to a sliver of Edward's beautiful past. And she was beautiful, truly she was. She was the woman you saw in passing every day and envied, robotics aside. Granted, from the little time I'd been around her, I picked up on no personality, but sometimes, just sometimes, I think every woman wrestled with her confidence – and mine had taken a knock. I couldn't and wouldn't deny that. It had been less of a knock and more of a _shattered_ _completely_, to be precise. It was such an odd feeling.

Would I have switched us, so that I could become her? No.

Would I aspire to be like her? No.

Did I want to look like her? No.

Was she this incredible, awe-inspiring woman? Not that I could see.

And yet here I was, feeling small and pathetic and weepy, because of her. I questioned if what I was feeling was jealousy, though it felt nothing like that emotion. She and Edward had a past, there was nothing I could do about that and I didn't feel necessarily threatened by it, though I would've preferred it if the past hadn't come to clash with the present. Maybe the 'off' feeling came from having my space invaded again. I didn't like it.

It was all very confusing.

_Swallow him whole like a pill that makes you choke and stills your soul_

_You have the nerve to look me in the eyes and lie_

_Send him back _

_I'll share the trap that you have me in_

"Bella?"

I jumped, clutching at my chest.

Turning, I found Edward walking slowly toward me, one hand buried deep in his pants pocket, the other holding onto my photo album.

_How long has he been in here? _

His eyes raked over me, up and down, up and down. I noticed his chest rise and fall as his face became something akin to stunned. I watched him blink. Twice. His eyes continued to scan me from head to toe.

Two more blinks.

He opened his mouth and then closed it.

Another blink.

I wanted to squirm but held strong.

He was in those dark grey suit pants again. Like _the_ _glasses_, they were very bad for Bella.

"You look…" he trailed off breathlessly, his eyes _still_ blinking.

I was growing uncomfortable. I murmured, 'evening' before busying myself with finding my purple clutch. It was hidden beneath the mound of new crap on my bed. I located my college bag and started to extract the things I would need for tonight.

"You're going out?" Edward asked, still sounding a little breathless. Or was he merely shocked? I couldn't blame him if he was, Bella and sexy didn't usually pair very well, or at all. I didn't think I looked anything like the usual me.

"Um… yeah." I placed my wallet and cell into my clutch and made my way toward the bathroom again for my makeup. "Is that alright?"

He cleared his throat. "Of-of course. Uh, college night out?"

Gloppy black lashes stuff? Check. Sticky lip slime? Check. Shimmery blush crap that makes me choke? Check.

"Kind of. Tyler asked me and Siobhan to go out with him and some friends." I came back into my bedroom and attempted to find my little foldaway hairbrush. It had been in the bag with the makeup… hmm.

Edward fidgeted. "Do you know where he's taking you?"

"Not really. I'm meeting him and Siobhan at half past. He said something about an eighteen plus club and dancing. I'll probably end up in hospital."

Ah-ha! Hairbrush? Check.

"Do you need some money?" Edward began reaching round to his back pocket, presumably for his wallet.

I cringed.

This seemed suddenly parental, like the drill an overbearing, protective father and his runaway teenage daughter would go through right before she escaped for some Friday night fun. I'd have ended up in a coma if my own father had done it and Edward doing it made me massively uneasy.

"I, uh… I'm fine. I have my card." I waved him off, or more specifically, I tried to wave his wallet away.

He nodded and started to scratch the back of his head. "I got home as fast as I could, Vicky called and said that Ka-"

I cringed again. Visibly.

Edward stopped talking.

_I don't want to compete. _

I didn't want to hear about her. I didn't want to know anything about her. I'd thought long and hard in the shower and while I couldn't help my natural curiosity, ultimately I found that I'd be better off _not knowing_. None of it had anything to do with me anyway. Edward's past was just that – his. It was none of my concern. As long as it stayed right there – in the past, everything would be A-OK. And to be honest, I didn't need to feel any worse than I already did. Being in the same room as Rosalie, Kate and Victoria had punctured my self-esteem quite enough for one day. Seeing what Edward _had_ at one point, pre-Bella, was more than a little bruising.

"I'm sorry," his eyes pleaded with me. "I had no idea they were coming over, Bella."

I attempted nonchalance and smiled brightly. "It's fine."

It wasn't fine.

Edward's face fell. "You don't want to talk about it?"

I held in my snort. "Not particularly, no."

_I'd rather take a mallet to my fingers_, I added silently.

"She didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. She meant well." He said quietly. "She's a good person, Bella."

My smile became tight.

A good person? A good person who had snooped about my bedroom and then lied directly to my face. I was having a hard time seeing the good right now. Outwardly, sure she'd appeared nice. But I felt off and nothing I could do or nothing he could say would stop that. I was taking the hint from my intuition and sticking a great big 'CAUTION!' sign over this… ex thing.

Pulling up my Diplomacy in Awkward Situations 101 guide, I responded, "I'm sure she is. I'm really late."

I began walking toward the bedroom door, surprisingly without incident in my killer heels. My steps became more and more confident the more I took. Way to go, Swan!

"Bella, wait…"

"Hmm?" I reached out for the door handle and turned.

"We really do need to talk about this," his eyes beseeched me. "And Kate asked that I give this to you." He held up a fancy white envelope.

It felt like an alien in my room. I didn't want it in here. In fact, I wanted to sanitise the whole place. This was my safe haven and it had been breached – yet again. It was creepy.

"Oh." This wasn't uncomfortable at all. "Um, just… leave it on my bed. I really need to get going."

He nodded sadly. I felt like such a turd.

"Alright. What time will you be home?"

"I'm not sure, I'll take my key."

I heard him sigh. It was rather a loaded sound. It silently screamed, 'I know this has been one step too far and I have to let you go, though I don't really want to.' Edward was a smart man. I was, generally speaking, a smart woman. Between the both of us, I think we were able to determine that if I didn't leave this house for a few hours, I would implode.

Would he rather I stayed to discuss it? I had no doubt that yes, he would.

Was he about to stop me from going?

"Call me and let me know where you are?"

No, he wasn't. I had to go.

"Sure."

_I don't want to compete. _

(*)

I threw some cash at the cab driver, grabbed my shoe and clutch and bunny-hopped my way up the stairs leading toward the house. Not so easy to do when wearing only one four inch heel - let me tell you! I gave myself a mental 'proud as pants!' badge. It seemed to make sense.

I had a minor disagreement with the key not wanting to fit in the lock, but after a nasty verbal lashing from me we came to an agreement. It would cooperate if I tried the correct one. That suited us both just fine.

The door slammed shut behind me. Naughty door.

"Sssssshhhhhh!" I flapped my hands at it. _Honestly_.

I grinned, proud of my disciplinary action taking. You have to rule with an iron fist, y'know?

I shook my fist.

I threw my keys at the tree trunk. They smacked the wall about a yard away and fell to the floor.

Oh well, it's not like I could claim very good hand-eye coordination on a good day anyhow, was it?

I swayed; the world was spinning jovially around me. It was like being on some death defying ride at the carnival and watching everything whirl and blur and streak by me.

I felt light… and heavy. My neck didn't seem to want to support my head and I found that tilting it backward felt _good_.

I stayed like that for a while – just standing with my head thrown back, my eyes closed and my mouth open. It felt nice. My body tingled and thrummed and everything was just wonderfully strange and fuzzy. I liked it.

"Bella?"

I snapped my head up, noting how very jelly-like it felt, and saw Edward rounding the bottom stairway. I had to blink a lot; the much too fast movements scrambled my vision.

I smiled merrily and started jumping about in an attempt to remove the one shoe that I still had on.

"You didn't need to wait up!" I slurred.

I felt fabulous!

His eyes widened and I swear, I saw a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Bella Swan, are you drunk?"

Was it really that obvious?

I continued hopping in vain. I could _not_ get the damn shoe off.

"Nope." I popped the 'p' and giggled. Funny. "I passed drunk at around midnight. I'm _kinda_ obliterated right now."

Obliterated came out sounding more… oblingerenated, not that I was paying all that much attention. The infernal strap on my shoe was seemingly super glued to my crapping ankle.

"Am I doing this wrong?" I narrowed one eye down at my foot. I mean, it looked like a standard enough buckle.

_How to get it off…?_

I think I heard Edward chuckle somewhere off in the background.

I opted to lean heavily against the wall and in a move that would surely make any yoga instructor proud, brought my foot upwards toward my face and started picking at the strap. Stupid thing.

"Did you have a good night?"

"Well," I frowned, closely inspecting the troublesome shoe. "It was loud."

Edward was very suddenly standing right in front of me, taking my foot into his hands and fiddling with the strap. "Where did you go?"

"To a club. Tyler took me dirty dancing." I cracked up laughing.

Edward's fingers skimmed across my ankle. Tickled. I laughed some more. "He did, did he?"

"Yup! Was fun." I nodded to further highlight my point.

"Where?"

Oh… what was the name again?

"I think it was called Sam's. Big underground place. Dark and loud and fun. Very fun."

Edward began sliding the strap from the buckle and gently removed my shoe, dropping it to the floor. "You mentioned it, though I'm not familiar with it. Is it downtown?"

I shook my head. "Harlem… so no."

His head shot up so quickly that I felt my stomach roll.

_Too fast, too fast, too fast!_

Edward's eyes bore into mine. "Harlem?"

I yawned. Jeez I felt tired.

"Yes, Harlem."

I think his eye twitched.

I had to pee.

"Harlem, as in _Upper_ _Manhattan_ Harlem?" He was still holding my foot, my leg bent at the knee. Surprisingly I was keeping my balance.

_Peculiar_.

"Is there more than one Harlem in Manhattan?" This was news to me.

He looked horrified.

Edward was a strange man.

"Bella, do you mean to tell me that for the past…" He removed a hand from my foot and checked his wrist watch. "… Six hours you have been in Upper Manhattan? This late at night? Alone?"

"Not alone, with Tyler." I corrected.

He ignored me. "Bella, Harlem is a notoriously rough neighbourhood!"

Tyler had said something about that… I think.

"Not all of it, it's been cleaned up a lot recently. And the block we were on was perfectly safe, it was nice, actually. Campus isn't too far away either."

I was sleepy. Still had to sort out the 'need a pee' thing too.

"Yes and one wrong turn could have seen you in a block being leered at, mugged or worse," he ran a hand anxiously through his hair. "Of all the clubs you could have gone to in _New York City_ and you chose one in Harlem? Anything could have happened to you!"

I squinted one eye at him and attempted to wink at him with the other. "You don't care much for Harlem, huh?"

Ooohhh - that was quite a mouthful!

_Harlem huh… Harlem huh… Harlem huh… Har-huh… lem-huh… Hal-luh-huh…_

T'was hard!

His eyed bugged. "Bella, I'm not joking. That area isn't safe. What on earth possessed you to go there, of all places?"

I shrugged. "Tyler goes there - likes the club. I like it too. I told you we were going to Sam's on the phone earlier."

I mean jeez… ears are for listening, are they not?

Pfft!

"You didn't say anything about being in Harlem!"

Lordy, who spit in his cornflakes?

I gave him an Inspector Clouseau worthy once over. "You sound mad."

He cocked his head to the side, silently observing me.

"Yes Bella, I am mad. Do you have any idea what could have happened to you tonight?"

I sniffed.

It felt good.

I did it again.

"Your bathroom floor kicked my ass this week, should I stay out of there too?" I gripped onto his shirt and pulled him closer to me, my bent leg grazing his side. "And you're kinda cute," I hiccupped, "when you're mad."

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. "Stop it."

I hiccupped again. "Stop what?"

"Stop being so adorably drunk, I'm trying my damndest to be furious with you!"

I grinned goofily. "And how's that working out for ya?"

He groaned and sank his face into the crook of my neck, inhaling.

"Like fighting a losing battle…" he muttered eventually.

"I thought you said you wouldn't get all freaked out about what I wanted to do," I slammed my head back against the wall and swiped at my eyes.

"Careful," his hands came to twine amongst the strands of my hair and he rubbed at the probably-more-damaged-than-it-actually-felt spot. "So long as you're safe, Bella. I won't interfere so long as you're safe. Harlem? It's not a place I feel comfortable with you visiting, not this late at night."

What now?

"Edward?"

He kissed my jaw. "Bella?"

"I think I left my burger in the cab."

I didn't see an eye roll, but I think there was one there none the less.

* * *

**The Edward POV outtake written for the Tsunami compilation is up! It's under 'Charm of my Own', you can find it on my profile, along with all FB, Twilighted and Banner links. **

**I know the legal drinking age is 21 over the pond. Let's give poor B a reprieve after that week though, yes?**

**French to English translations, please bear in mind that word for word it is extremely hard to translate, but the meaning/sentiments are all there: **

**1. _You are incredible._**

**2. **_**I think we missed a benefit.  
**_  
**3. **_**I could sit here all night and compliment you, and for once you wouldn't squirm.**__  
_  
**4. **_**For instance, I could tell you how beautiful you are to me, and I wouldn't have to watch you scowl and look away.**_

**5. **_**It's hard to be angry with everything that has happened today when you're being so adorably… you. Do you know that?**_**  
**  
**6. **_**Everything you won't let me say.**_**  
**  
**7. **_**I feel like a very lucky man to have found you, Miss Swan.**__  
_  
**8. **_**Your stubborn determination is quite unlike anything I have ever seen before.  
**_  
**9. **_**What I want is right here.**_

**4****th**** out! x**


	16. Chapter 16

**Stephanie Meyer owns Twilight, no copyright infringement intended. **

**Popular questions answered:**

_**Are you dead?**_** No. **

_**Where's the update?**_** *waves magic wand* Ta-DA!**

_**Do you always take this long to update?**_** Not usually. Summer holiday madness commenced.**

_**Do you have an update schedule?**_** Don't be so silly, I have my own concept of time. If I say a week, make it four. It's all the same to me. **

_**Have you abandoned this story?**_** No, I like the thighs too much. **

**Much love to pixiekat7 for her Beta work. Thank you to Jen for all of her help. Huge hugs for the Scooby Gang, you guys keep me going. **

**Thank you to everyone who continues to read, rec, review, etc. **

**Chapter song: **

**Mumford and Sons – After the Storm **

**For Coco, so proud of you love! - 4.0GPA right here!**

* * *

"Real Elation is when you feel you could touch a star without standing on tiptoe."

~ Doug Larson

_Chapter Sixteen_

"_Edward?"_

_He kissed my jaw. "Bella?"_

"_I think I left my burger in the cab."_

_I didn't see an eye roll, but I think there was one there none the less. _

~*AMtDR*~

I cracked my eyes half open to find a darkened room surrounding me, the bright morning sunlight I was expecting to see hadn't yet managed to peek through and permeate the space. How odd. My room was usually always bright. What time was it? It certainly didn't look like morning.

Sleepily, my eyes began to close again, uncaring as to what had opened them in the first place.

Not a minute later, I had my answer and my eyes were fighting to reopen, though struggling in their efforts.

"It was the right decision, Edward." Somebody familiar said with an astounding amount of conviction. "It couldn't go on any longer. It wasn't fair to her."

"I know."

"I know you know," they countered. "But you're too hard on yourself."

"How can I not be? She's my sister."

"I'll handle Rose."

"But you shouldn't have to."

A loud, obnoxious snort sounded. "No one should _have_ to, Edward. Regardless, I'll deal with it."

In a voice so low I thought I must have misheard, the other replied, "I feel like such a shit."

The returning sigh was loaded and full of frustration. "See? This is what I'm talking about. You take on too much damn blame! You can't control Rose's actions. You can try and prevent them, but she's going to do what she's going to do. You're too absorbed in kicking your own ass for something that wasn't your fault!"

"I should have done more."

"Like fucking what?" Came the reply in an angry hiss. "You turned into Superman all of a sudden?"

"I brought her here, Em. I promised to take care of her."

"Which you're doing, Edward! Jesus! Are your shoulders not breaking with the whole Goddamn world resting on them? Quit beating yourself up. Rose had it coming to her."

"I know, I know. But Bella… _Fuck!_ She didn't tell me, she just left."

Hmm. I was called Bella.

Smiling lazily, my heavy lids finally won out and I slipped back into a deep, deep slumber.

(-)

I was jostled awake by arms. Strong arms. Strong arms that were hoisting me up carefully from my comfortable sleeping spot and bringing me into a chest. I knew those arms – and that chest. I'd know them anywhere.

"Edward?" I mumbled groggily, peeling my eyes open slowly.

I think he smiled down at me. It was hard to tell, the room was too dark and my eyelashes were seemingly super glued together by that gloppy mascara crap. How attractive.

"Hey." His hand stoked gently through my tresses. Always gentle, always so caring. "How are you feeling?"

His whispered words left my ears ringing and my head pounding. They were too loud.

"Like I'm dying." Slowly _and_ painfully. "What's going on?"

He adjusted me so that I was sitting on his lap, curled right into him. "I'm kidnapping you for the weekend. Any objections?"

I yawned widely and snuggled further into his warmth. "Kidnapping me?"

"Mmm-hmm," he murmured. "The getaway car's ready to go. Are you going to give me any problems, Miss Swan?"

"Depends. Can I sleep through the aforementioned kidnap?"

"Certainly."

"'Kay then." I said through another yawn.

My brain felt like it was melting.

_Melting_.

His fingers suddenly began pulling down the length of my hair, almost as though he was detangling a knot. I had to resist the urge to slap them away. "You have a… little plastic monkey in your hair."

Of course I did. I mean, why not?

"I got him for you."

I hadn't, well, I might have done. I couldn't actually remember. It was the thought that counts, yes?

His chuckle was silent, though I was forced to bob along with his chest until it had finally passed. It did nothing for my head, which honestly felt as though there was a hoard of mini devils with pitchforks prodding around inside of it. It ached terribly and the pounding made everything seem slow, hazy. I shut my eyes tight and tried to will the pain away, but to no avail. I guess I could officially claim hangover status.

It was horrible.

Edward's arms moved from me temporarily to drape a blanket over me, making sure he tucked it around my limp body tightly. It was like being mummified, only less dead.

I couldn't resist my drowsy giggle.

"You know for a kidnapper, you're terribly thoughtful, Mr. C."

"Less of the sass," he prodded my side teasingly. "You're no good to me ill."

"Less ransom money for damaged goods, huh?"

"Ransom," he scoffed. "I'm keeping you. You said I could."

Funny, for a near forty year old, the architect did playfully petulant quite well. Ah, who was I kidding? He did everything well.

My body was folded and engulfed in Edward's as he bent forward and fidgeted with something out of sight. When he sat us both back, his fingers pressed something to my lips as he quietly instructed, "Open."

I did as I was told and felt the cool, smooth surface of a tiny pill being placed onto my tongue. Next, the rimmed, slightly wet opening of a bottle was willing to help me swallow it right down.

I gulped loudly and shivered as the cold liquid trickled down my parched throat drop by drop. "Is this supposed to keep me quiet?"

Jesting with one's kidnapper was rather fun. I'd read those silly romance novels, apparently the trick was to try and appeal to his human side. I could do that.

Another pill was popped between my lips and Edward eased down to kiss them lightly before bringing the water bottle back.

"You should be feeling better in twenty minutes."

_Twenty minutes_, I inwardly rolled my eyes. I wouldn't be awake another three with the way I was feeling.

He stood up easily with me in his arms, his hold tightening as he began walking, presumably toward the bedroom door. It was a strange sort of gesture. If I didn't know Edward the way that I did, I'd probably have been consumed with feelings of being babied. I did however, know Edward. I knew that while to some, that's exactly how it may have looked – an older man taking care of someone much younger, I knew that this is exactly where Edward liked me the most. For whatever reason, he liked me close, encased within his arms. He liked me safe and what safer place to keep me than right there with him? And he liked me well, which I most certainly wasn't at the present time. Edward was a carer and he was doing just that – caring in his own way.

I'd never been more grateful for his compassionate nature. I very much doubted I could repair enough brain matter to help me walk right now.

"Ready to hit the road, oh sleepy one?"

My responding, 'sure' was slurred. Alcohol really did have a funny way of bringing out the inner articulate you.

"Just one question," I nuzzled into his throat and greedily gulped in his addictive scent. "This kidnapping doesn't involve the back of a van and rope, right? 'Cause I'm really not down for that."

Edward pressed a tender kiss to my forehead before leaning his cheek on top of it. "Do you really think I would ever risk a rope burn on that beautiful skin, Bella?"

Eh.

Good enough.

(-)

The first thing I registered was the heat. Not scorching by any means, but the kind of warmth that makes you smile inside, the kind that brightens any day just because the sun is likely shining. There was a mild tickle of a breeze caressing my legs, which when moved, shifted nakedly against the softest cotton.

The second thing I noticed was the noise. There was none, except for a lulling background of calm waves breaking and licking at a beach. Curious. Was there some kind of _relaxation_ CD playing somewhere off in the distance? I didn't have anything like that in my own music collection and from what I'd seen of Edward's, he liked to listen to classical music when unwinding.

I stretched out leisurely, revelling in the snatches of cool, downy softness both on top of and beneath me. Heaven. Pure, blissful heaven. There's nothing quite like waking up and seeking out all of the cold spots on your sheets.

As I worked my eyes open idly and yawned, I startled upon finding myself in a room that was neither my own nor Edward's. It wasn't even the spare room. It was… completely alien.

The extremely pale, cream-green walls, the imposing white wooden French doors, the antique dark wood furniture, the enormous white bed that I was in, accented with black and white linens - the damn ocean that was suddenly right freakin' _there_!

"Uh… Edward?" I hollered, panicked and clambering clumsily from my sheeted confines, tangling myself further in the process. "Edward?"

Oh God!

_Right, retrace your steps, Bella. Where were you last? Don't _flip_ out just yet!_

I thought.

I thought some more.

I continued thinking.

I came up blank. And not just a little blank, but totally blank.

"Edward?" I cried, louder this time.

My losing battle with the quilt was cut short when my hand knocked against something hard. Peering down, I found a little black box upturned within the mass of white and I swear, my heart rate stopped accelerating to dangerous new heights almost immediately.

_Edward was here. _

Snatching the box up with shaking hands, I found a little silver seashell charm inside, only, well, the silver was definitely more white gold and the sparkles were probably diamonds.

Edward would be Edward.

I fell back against the beds headboard, relieved and yet so full of questions. Where the hell were we? Unless _The Day After Tomorrow_ had actually been accurate in its scary cinematography, the ocean wasn't supposed to be such a short walk away.

"Bella, are you alright?"

My head shot toward to the door on the opposite side of the room just in time to see Edward cautiously pop his head of auburn hair around the carved wooden frame.

I was awarded one of his best heart stopping grins as he cheerfully greeted, "Good morning."

"M-morning," I stuttered, bug eyed and wary.

The door was pushed open further as he walked slowly yet purposefully into the room, clad in faded jeans and an expensive looking light blue t-shirt. "Are you ok? You look like you've seen a ghost."

I had to wonder then how I was supposed to look upon waking up in a strange bed with absolutely no memory of getting _into_ it. I could certainly figure out how to _avoid_ it from happening ever again though – _don't drink_.

I scratched my head and peered back out at the crystal blue sea.

"Edward…" I said eventually. "Where the hell are we?"

I don't think either of us missed the fact that my voice flew up an octave or four.

"Montauk," he offered, as if it helped.

It didn't.

"Where?"

"Montauk." He sat himself down at the edge of the bed, reaching for my hand. "Furthest Eastern point in the Hamptons. I wanted to get you out of the city for the weekend."

"Out of the city?"

But I liked the city – I knew my own bed!

"Yes. We've both had better weeks; I figured we could use the break."

I turned my head to blink at him, utterly lost.

Frowning, Edward lifted a hand to cup and stroke my cheek. "I don't like this face," he spoke quietly. "You're looking at me like you've never seen me before."

"I'm sorry; I'm a bit confused." It was an honest admittance. "When did we get here?"

"A couple of hours ago, I made sure we left early so that we could make the most of the weekend. You don't remember leaving?"

Evidently not.

"Are we in a hotel?"

Beautiful room? Check.

Ocean view? Check.

Balcony with sun loungers? Check.

Uh… hot tub? Big fat check.

"No, my condo."

"Your condo?" The words left me in a breathless, whooshed whisper. "You have a condo in the Hamptons? What am I saying, of course you do…" I shook my head and swiped a hand across my forehead. "Any other properties I should know about?"

I meant it jokingly, though he responded, "A small villa in the south of France and apartments in Sydney, Tokyo, Paris and London where I have offices. You'd need to be awake to get through customs for those though, so the element of surprise would certainly be lost."

"London?" I perked up, momentarily forgetting myself.

Edward's head cocked to the side and I could practically see the cogs in his mind beginning to turn.

"Does Miss Swan secretly wish to see London?"

I fidgeted, wondering how best to answer. I knew Edward well enough by now to understand his compulsion with lavish gestures. The mere thought of vacationing in England seemed wholly… _preposterous_, really. Like some far reaching land that I, Bella Swan, was never meant to see. It was beyond my limits. Edward had a habit of bringing things within limit though, which cost him both time and money.

I opted to shrug the question off nonchalantly. "Ah, who doesn't want to go to England? It's a beautiful country."

He smirked, not fooled for a minute.

"Bella," he tugged on my hand. "If you want to go to England, I'll take you to England."

I rolled my eyes, trying to snatch my hand away with absolutely zero success. "I would like to go many places, Edward. That doesn't automatically mean I get to go. Ordinary people don't just jump on a plane and jet set across the world."

"Then I'll take you many places, point at a map and we'll work it around your school holidays. You're always welcome to come away with me when I leave for work of course, so long as your school calendar allows you the time and you don't mind exploring mostly on your own."

I gaped at him. My tongue may also have been lolling out of my mouth - like a dog.

"And don't ever refer to yourself as ordinary, I don't like it." He stood and leaned in to kiss the top of my head, squeezing my hand briefly. "Why don't you go take a bath and relax and I'll give you a tour as soon as you're ready."

_A bath? _

He wanted me to take a bath after that little speech?

Was he being serious?

Yes, he was. Of course he was. It was such an Edward thing to do – dream-like offers of global travel followed by a simplistic, homey suggestion. Just like my Mini. 'Here's a new car, did you need anything, sweetheart?'

It made my head spin.

His retreating form was nearly to the door when I called out, "So Montauk… for the weekend?"

"Montauk for the weekend," he confirmed casually without turning. "Oh, and Vicky picked you up some things yesterday, they're in your bag on the chair."

And with that, the bedroom door closed and Edward was gone, off to be 'man about the house' - in _his_ condo.

I glanced at the white wing backed chair, positioned at an angle at the other end of the French doors and sure enough, there was my fabulous graffiti bag that he'd sent to me back in Forks.

Interesting.

I quickly fastened the new charm to my getting-heavier-by-the-second bracelet and clambered from the bed.

There was a note waiting for me as I slowly unzipped the case, written in what I guessed to be Vicky's bubbly handwriting.

_~ Bella ~_

_Hope you have a wonderful weekend! I have no doubt these will all fit, so go knock him dead! We'll all see you on Monday for your Birthday. Remember to take lots of pictures, I packed your camera - it's in your handbag._

_Much love, V x_

_P.S. He feels awful about yesterday, we spoke after you left. Try talking to him. You have my number if you need me._

Aw crap!

That's precisely what I didn't want, him worrying about Medusa and Stepford. He was already stressed about his Sydney trip, he was trying to hide it, but he wasn't doing a great job of it. He'd had all of my drama to put up with this week as well; the last thing I wanted was for him to worry any more. I felt worse knowing how much of his time I'd taken up these past few days – not calling, making him cancel meetings, all of his help with my French presentation, having him come up to Columbia and the trouble that followed that particular peach.

Jeez.

No more, if you please.

Blowing out a breath, I rummaged and searched through the bag, pulling out items as I went. They all had tags. Clearly I was the least observant person ever to walk the planet. Somehow, Vicky had managed to fill a weekend bag full of beach clothes for me, right under my nose. I made a mental note to pay more attention to her actions next time we went shopping.

I was overcome with feelings of gratitude, there was everything in there that I would ever need for a beach weekend away and judging by the vast expanse of golden sand and blue water behind me, that's exactly what this was. There was even a new, small white canvas shoulder bag on the chair containing my purse, cell, lip balm and just like she'd mentioned, my camera.

How in the name of God did I end up here, with all of these incredible people around me? Maybe I'd done something good in a previous life.

I settled on a few items and went in search of the bathroom, which wasn't hard to find given the only other door in the room seemed to lead out of the bedroom.

The bathroom was extravagant, much like our shared one at home - his and her sinks, a large, expensive power shower and a sunken bath with multiple jets.

One glance down told me to skip the bath altogether and get straight into the shower and scrub. My left foot was _black_. A courageous look in the mirror confirmed that I was the victim of a night out now forgotten. My hair was a bird's nest, I had black makeup smudged underneath my eyes and I positively reeked of Au de Brewery.

Edward had actually travelled with me like this, within the confines of a small car. I sincerely hoped he'd cracked a window.

It was official. I disgusted _myself_.

Oddest of all, I was wearing nothing but my underwear and one of his shirts. It came down to mid-thigh on me. I found this a little amusing; it was like being in a giant's clothing. Parts of said shirt that weren't being overpowered with the whiff of my misfortune still smelled like him and oh how I liked that. Maybe I could wash it, have him wear it again and then sneakily snatch it back. Maybe.

Stripping out of my unmentionables, I hopped into the shower. Yes you heard me, unmentionables. Because let's face it, perhaps the memory loss was a good thing. I wasn't entirely convinced I wanted to be clued in on how I came to be in such a ridiculous state of undress. One of my bra straps had even snapped. The not knowing was probably safer for my ego.

I used half a bottle of shower gel scrubbing the general feeling of 'vile' from my pores and was sorely tempted to take a wire brush to my foot. It looked like there was some sort of obscure gangrene problem going on down there and it felt like a whole week had passed by the time I saw flesh coloured skin again.

My hair was doused several times with as much of Edward's shampoo as I could pile into it and the bar of soap had depleted significantly in overall mass by the time I'd finished cleaning my face. I wrapped myself up in a large fluffy towel and started working on my mouth. Seeing my toothbrush already set aside at the sink was like seeing a cascading waterfall mirage in the middle of a desert. I was more than willing to break up the cavity party going on inside my mouth. I'd need to replace Edward's – new – bottle of mouthwash soon. Ooops.

I was finally squeaky clean. I liked clean. I didn't ever want to leave 'clean' again. I threw on some white denim shorts, a striped white and blue boat neck top and some gold strappy sandals, which left me feeling very nautical. I left my hair to dry naturally, dusted the light bruises still on my face with some concealer and went in search of the architect.

Directly outside of the bedroom, I came to a small cubby-like landing area that a bit like the one we had at home, had space enough to just fit a comfortable looking chair and bookcase. That was it, one door and two pieces of furniture.

_One bedroom?_

The next surprise came in the form of the stairs. They went up, not down. As I climbed, I felt myself become awed upon looking up to find a magnificent, almost barn shaped ceiling above me. My final step brought me instantly into the living area and it was stunning. Varying shades of cream, white and blue assaulted my eyes as I tried to take it all in – the small yet modern white wood kitchen with stainless steel appliances, the dark, antique looking round breakfast table and chairs, the deep blue sofa and non-matching white chairs surrounding a _real_ fireplace – a large black flat screen adorning the wall directly above it. But best of all, were the near wall length patio doors that lead out onto another balcony, overlooking a vast expanse of ocean.

Jesus. What a 'pad'.

The space was light and airy, with windows puncturing the ceiling and walls in every available place. Aged pieces of furniture that had been restored to their former glory were dotted around the living area without cluttering it and books, lamps and throw cushions accented the room perfectly.

I could absolutely see it as Edward's _get away from it all_ place. It was just so _him_.

Speak of the devil; the man himself was watching me closely from the balcony. His Blackberry was glued to his ear though the minute I stepped forward; he muttered something into the handset and slipped it into his pocket.

"I didn't mean to interrupt," I held my hands up apologetically. "Point me in the direction of the beach and I'll get out the way."

Rolling his eyes, he hooked a finger at me, indicating that I should go to him. I did so, slowly. My last few steps faltered as Edward grabbed me, pulling me into his body while simultaneously lifting my feet from the ground.

"Mmm," he nuzzled into my neck quietly. "Feeling better?"

I wrapped my arms around his neck and squeezed, feeling his hard, muscled chest press firmly against mine. "Much better. I think the view's helping."

"I thought it might. You seem to have a fondness for looking at the water."

I pulled back and smiled inquisitively, quite taken aback by his observation. "What makes you say that?"

His returning smile was wistful, memory filled. "The first picture I ever saw of you, you were gazing out at the sea, and the first time I actually saw you in person, you were out on a balcony, gazing out at Puget Sound. I put two and two together and came up with _likes to gaze at the water_."

I smacked at his chest playfully and shook my head.

"You look beautiful," he sighed, running a hand down my face and stopping to lightly grip my chin. When his thumb began gliding across my bottom lip, I felt a shiver course through my body and all the way down to my toes.

I swallowed around a whispered and uneasy, "Thank you."

His fingers dug into the hair at the base of my neck, guiding my face closer to his, to set a sweet, chaste kiss against my lips. My body began slowly sliding down the front of his as Edward released his hold on me and I felt the scrape of his jeans button pull from beneath my bellybutton to the middle of my stomach.

It felt… _good_. I instantly blushed.

I cleared my throat loudly, hoping to banish that particular train of thought and asked, "So what are we doing today?"

"What would you like to do, sweetheart?" The back of his hand brushed against some wayward hair, sweeping it back from my face. "We'll need to go to the market at some point to pick up some food, but other than that, the day is yours."

"We can go to the beach?"

The last time I'd been at a beach had been with Angela back in La Push. Oh Ang, I'd have to check in with her again sometime soon.

He nodded, smiling and happy and generally just looking very sparkly eyed. "We can go to the beach," he confirmed. "How about we head out for food first and I can show you a little of Montauk?"

I reached up on my tiptoes to kiss him, managing to somehow mumble out, "Sounds like a good plan to me."

(-)

Edward seemed to live on the 'millionaire's row' of Montauk. Old Montauk Highway was just ripe for the picking if you had a cool few million in your back pocket to burn and wanted a beautiful ocean front home. The positioning of his condo was located within the Panoramic View Resort, a ten acre luscious green haven that could boast a thousand feet of private golden sand and breathtaking views. While a fair chunk of the resort was divided into studios and cottages for vacationers to enjoy all year round, the remaining units were privately owned, like Edward's. If the beach began to bore, then the private swimming pool with sun loungers, cabanas and bar would certainly keep you entertained. Throw in a twenty-four hour concierge service and a fitness centre and basically, you never needed to leave the place.

As for Montauk itself, I had almost no words to describe its beauty. If the landscape wasn't pointing you toward rolling mounds of leafy greens, then you were pretty much left with sprawling beaches of soft, white sand and glistening blue waters. It was most definitely a fisherman's town and popular with surfers and sailing enthusiasts alike. I thought it was the most picturesque place I'd ever had the pleasure of seeing.

Edward was saint like in his patience and drove slowly with each new squeal of excitement I gave, pointing things out to him that he'd no doubt seen a million times before. He promised to bring me back next summer so that we could take one of the infamous wildlife cruises and made fantastical promises of whale and dolphin sightings. My inner child was going to hold him to it.

The town itself was quaint and otherworldly, with charming little stores and brightly coloured awning's. Edward bought me the largest bunch of sunflowers I'd ever seen before we hit the market to stock up for the weekend.

I was sniffing and quietly fawning over my incredible bouquet during the drive home when I thought to ask him how long he'd had his place here. And something surprising happened.

Edward clammed up.

He said nothing for the remainder of the drive and I immediately felt bad. I kept silent, not wishing to step on toes with any other _off the table_ questions. I hadn't realised it was a touchy subject, what with him bringing me here and all.

As he parked his car, making sure it was the farthest away from every other one in the lot; I helped him in with the bags and the unpacking.

"Do you have a vase?" I asked softly, fingering my big yellow blooms nervously.

From out of nowhere he produced one, setting it down on top of the black granite surface. I busied myself with filling the ceramic full of water and emptied the plant food into it, grateful for something to keep both my hands and mind occupied. As I turned to ask where the scissors were kept, he handed me a pair. I started cutting silently.

"A little over two years," he said tightly. "I downsized properties after my relationship with Kate ended."

My fingers stilled.

"I used to have a place further inland overlooking the lake, but she always hated coming here and I always thought the house was ostentatious and too large for our needs. I got rid of it soon after we parted ways."

Oh.

I wasn't sure how I was supposed to react to that; I didn't feel any reaction, if I'm honest. Did he think I would instantly break if he mentioned her name?

Frowning, and not wholly convinced it was a good idea to press, I asked, "Why didn't you just say that in the car?"

"I wasn't sure how you would react."

"React?" I set the scissors down and pushed the sunflowers away from the counters edge. "Edward, I'm not that delicate. You're allowed to say her name."

"Am I?"

I turned to gape at him.

"What do you mean, 'am I?'?" I felt momentarily insulted by the question. I was hardly incapable of understanding he had a past. "She was a part of your life, wasn't she?"

"Yes."

"So the name's bound to come up from time to time. You're thirty-nine, there was life pre-Bella Swan. Do you think I don't get that?"

"Not at all," he said firmly, his jaw hardening. "I just thought you'd be uncomfortable, given what happened yesterday."

Ah.

So that's what this was about.

Not at all surprisingly, my defensive stance fell away almost immediately.

"You should have told me." Edward leaned back to rest against a cabinet and folded his arms across his chest. "We've talked about this before. I can't fix anything when you don't communicate, Bella."

"I didn't want to cause any trouble."

"Trouble?" He chuckled humourlessly. "Your private space gets invaded, again, and you didn't think to bring it up while I stood there, harping on about how _well meaning_ my ex supposedly is?"

"She's your friend. It's not my place to come in and make waves."

"Not your place?" Edward murmured disbelievingly. "That's your _home_, Bella. Yours. Not theirs, yours. You have a say in who charges through that front door!"

"They said they'd come over to see you, what was I supposed to do? Physically kick them out?"

"If you're that way inclined, by all means!" He swiped a hand agitatedly across his brow. "You cannot possibly think for one moment that I would have been alright with what they did?"

"Well, no. But the week had already been beyond disastrous and you're busy with prep for Sydney. I didn't want to add to the stress."

"By not talking to me you add to it, Bella," he sighed. "I brought you here. I made promises to keep you safe and to give you a home. You make me break those promises by not communicating properly. I'm hardly leaving for Sydney feeling at ease with the way things are right now."

I shifted restlessly from one foot to the other, feeling a mite chastened.

We were going around in circles. We'd already had this discussion once this week and I'd promised to try and be more open with him. I guess I'd failed in that department, again. The last thing I wanted to do last night was hang around and discuss his ex though, not after such a crappy week.

That wasn't to say I didn't still owe Edward an explanation though. Edward - the man who continuously bent over backwards for me.

"Alright," I began chewing on the inside of my cheek, thinking of how best to articulate my thoughts. "I think your sister has issues, I've seen less venom being spewed from a Black Mamba snake. She went out of her way to make me feel uncomfortable yesterday with her passive aggressive approach to making awkward hallway small talk and I don't like that she can just waltz in and out of the house whenever she pleases. She shot my good day to crap and made me feel less than an inch tall."

Edward said nothing, his face blank.

I took it as a sign to continue.

"Kate made me feel incredibly self-conscious; she actually looks like the 'perfect' woman but was about as interesting to converse with as a wedding obsessed robot. While I can accept that she's a part of your past and always will, I don't like the past and present colliding. It's awkward for me. I can't decide if I think she's as subtly hostile as Rosalie is or if she's merely just so socially polite that she needs to refer to me as your 'boarder', even after she's been through a photo album of us together in my bedroom and then lied directly to my face about it."

Still nothing.

"I would, quite honestly, feel more comfortable walking over broken glass than I would having to attend her wedding in December. Please don't make me. Oh, and I want a lock for my bedroom door."

I blew out a breath, and waited.

Edward licked his lips, though made no other move. He remained perfectly still in his _Cullen lean_, arms still folded across his chest powerfully.

Maybe I'd gone too far.

Frick!

"I'm sorry, I didn't me-"

Edward held up his hand, effectively cutting me off.

"While you were out last night," he began smoothly. "I spent a number of hours on the phone to my lawyer, asking about implementing a temporary restraining order against Rosalie, to stop her from coming within a set distance of the house. Fortunately it pays to have friends in high places. She should be served with papers this afternoon."

Edward looked directly at me, his eyes determined.

"It will only last four weeks, but we're working toward a permanent order in the meantime. If she does come to the house, she will be in breach of a court order and subject to the legal consequences. While I'm away, if you find her anywhere near the property, you are to call the police immediately. Orange has never been Rose's colour so I'd like to think the paper itself would be enough of a deterrent, but you never know with her."

I blinked, stunned.

"My sister has always had issues, as you so kindly put it Bella, especially when it comes to boundaries. I should've done more in the past to prevent this kind of thing from happening, but unfortunately I've always had a compassionate blind spot for my one and only sibling. She's grown up incredibly spoiled and troubled and neither my parents nor I have ever known how to fix things for her. Regardless, her behaviour is unacceptable and I will not allow it to impact you any further. It's hypocritical of me to moan when I haven't taken the necessary steps to prevent."

I opened my mouth to respond, though nothing came out.

"Emmett was at the house this morning to let in a locksmith and a security systems team. All entrance doors have been refitted with new locks and there is now an updated alarm system installed by the front door. If you'd still like a lock to be fitted for your bedroom door, I'll have it taken care of before we arrive home."

I continued to make fish lips at him.

"As for Kate, we had words last night after Vicky filled me in. I'd bet good money on there being a pretentiously large delivery of flowers awaiting your return, by way of apology. I want to make it clear that I didn't assume you'd want to come to the wedding. Kate and I happened to run into each other the other week and I mentioned the _possibility_ of needing a plus one. I had every intention of asking you if you would like to attend with me - my objective was never to make you go. Kate however, has always had an infuriating knack for jumping the gun some. I firmly believe that Rosalie lead her somewhat astray yesterday. I don't doubt she came to house under the impression that I would be there and she went upstairs genuinely thinking that Rose was showing her some remodelling work I'd had done. I haven't been at all forthcoming of our relationship to anybody outside my close circle of friends, for no other reason than not wanting to throw you in at the deep end. Kate was a little taken aback when she saw your room and I don't imagine she was thinking very clearly when she followed Rose in."

_To snoop_, I added silently, still perturbed by it all.

"I left Kate under no illusions last night. I was… angry, to say to least. I've told you before that you take priority and I refuse to have you running away from your own home and off to Harlem, of all places, because you feel discomforted by the thoughtless actions of others, Bella. I won't stand for it. But you _must_ start communicating more openly with me, agreed?"

I cleared my throat, feeling a little dazed.

"Agreed," I whispered hoarsely, nodding.

"With regards to the boarder comment, backhanded as it may have seemed, Kate is interminably proper in her mannerisms. I think she panicked more than anything, and coupled with her surprise, went into politeness overdrive. I don't believe she said it to be hurtful, but then again, I wasn't there. It's for you to decide how to interpret what was said. She is a very dear friend of mine yes, though please don't think for a minute that I have blinders on when it comes to her character. _I_ know her to be generally well meaning, but I also know the circles she associates with and they can be spitefully cutthroat. She knows that I'm not happy with her and I will certainly be paying closer attention to things from now on, alright?"

"Alright."

"I've already told Kate you won't be attending the wedding, does that suit?"

"Yes."

Relieved, utterly _relieved_.

"Are you ready to bury subject-ex?"

I giggled. "Yes."

"Any other worries about Rosalie?"

"No."

"Still want a lock on your door?"

I bit my lip and looked apologetic.

"No."

Edward let out an exaggerated sigh and walked over to me, scooping me up and setting me down onto the counter. I parted my legs and without further instruction, he came to stand directly between them.

"You should open up like that more often, you're quite feisty."

I scowled at him playfully before welcoming his incoming lips.

It started off innocently enough, feather light caresses and teasing touches made around smiles, but as Edward's hands came to glide along my bare thighs, I opened my mouth to him and things became… _heated_.

There was a sudden sense of desperation and longing to his movements. I could feel it in the squeeze of his hands, the urgency of his lips and the crackling atmosphere that was making a sphere around us, bringing us closer together. As I shifted my body further into his, he in turn shifted his into mine - chest to chest, shoulders to shoulders, crushing mouth against crushing mouth.

His hand moved to the back of my hip, pulling me in further just as his other hand wound up the length of my spine, gently pulling on my hair to expose my neck to his searing hot breaths. It left me flushed, drunk in my stupor. I arched my back and tilted my head, revelling in those slightly wet lips that were trailing little sparks from my chin to the hollow of my throat.

My breathing stuttered when his hands skimmed my sides gently, the touch feather light and yet so full of meaning.

"I just want you to be happy, Bella." Was the whispered oath spoken reverently into my ear.

I didn't have to understand his reason, to understand his truth behind such words. I just knew them to be sincerely honest. And that's all Edward had ever been with me – honest. Strangely, it felt good knowing that I'd returned the favour by way of my own open admittance.

(-)

The water was lapping at my legs, my hips, my stomach. It sent a conflicting chill against patches of my skin as the heat of the sun beat down on me. New York's recent heat wave was still being felt and despite our costal location, the wind was at a minimum. Where the mid-September sun usually shone down to produce temperatures in the upper sixties to low seventies around here, we were currently basking in eighty degree splendour.

It was wonderful. Edward sure had picked the right weekend to come.

Resting back on my hands, I tilted my sunglass framed eyes up toward the sky and smiled. The waves were breaking and lulling around my body, tickling me as the water receded back into its deeper depths and I found myself feeling… somewhat content.

My mind continued to churn over our talk, over how freeing it finally felt to have unburdened my thoughts. It was a weight lifted to know that Rosalie had finally been put in her place, though Edward was evidently warring with himself internally for having to take such drastic action against his own sister. His emotions were clashing and he'd made no show of trying to hide it. He felt both rotten and relieved, which was wholly understandable. Rosalie would likely see this new development as an attack against her, his own sibling – Edward's loyalties should lie with her. She would see protective moves being implemented against her, to defend a _nobody_. She would be angry.

I was also feeling a little torn. Relieved yes, happy yes, but torn. It had never been my intention to come between them. For that, I felt horrible. But a stronger part of me also realised that she got what she deserved. As the age old saying goes, you made your bed – now lie in it! Her uncouth attitude, her cunningly spiteful tongue, her inability to respect the wishes of those around her, they had just earned her a fast track ticket to 'Shunned-Ville'. She was no longer welcome in her brother's house, ever. And whose fault was that?

I wanted to take some of the blame and drop it firmly in my lap, but I knew that was wrong. Rosalie's actions, her mannerisms, her character – they weren't of my doing. None of it had been my fault. In fact, through her own miscalculated steps, she had made me the victim.

It's funny, but the longer Edward and I had talked, the more I began to see a little light. That _was_ my home. That was _my_ room. It didn't matter if I'd been there two weeks or ten years, that was my personal space and she had no right to invade it, sibling or not.

I guess actions really did have consequences. Now she would have to live with them.

As far as Kate was concerned, I didn't want to think about her anymore. She was Edward's friend, she was in his life. I wished them nothing but the best when it came to their friendship, but I didn't want any part of it. I didn't want to be dragged into its complexities and Edward seemed supportive of that. I considered the matter buried.

My debts to the much-too-kind man seemed to be piling up by the second and despite what he said, I still felt as though he was getting very little in return. I wanted to do something for him, but what? He had everything he needed, he had the means to buy everything he wanted and I definitely didn't have the resources available to make any sort of large gesture by way of expensive gifts. What do you buy a man such as Edward anyway?

No, repayments would have to be a little more creative. Edward was quite an emotional being; a price tag meant nothing when there was no meaning behind it. So what did he like, what would he really _appreciate_? What the hell could I possibly do for him that said, 'you've done a lot for me and I'm grateful'?

I found myself thinking back on the very first email he'd ever sent me. He had listed sailing, travelling and photography as his hobbies. It was evident that he cared a great deal about his work, though he wished for more free time. He liked to read and his intelligence shone through in his written words.

I'd come to know him as the type of person who valued his time amongst friends as precious; I'd gotten to know Edward as a caretaker. But he also lived for his work and was well travelled. He was knowledgeable and always had a story to offer, memories to revisit. Despite his wealth, he wasn't really one for grandeur. His home in New York certainly cost a pretty penny, but it wasn't over the top. Much like his condo here, it fit his needs and no more. He loved his cars, but again, Edward wasn't the sort of rich man who had a garage full of them. His vehicles were certainly afforded luxury, but I'd never say that they were status symbols. He _enjoyed_ his Jaguar and kept the Mercedes for the colder months. It was as simple as that. Edward wasn't a wasteful man. There was no ivory tower, no air of arrogance, no real excess or any wild extremes.

Hmmm, what to do…

I really wasn't sure, though I was determined.

"Mind if I join you?" The whispered words fell against my ear and made me shiver as Edward settled himself behind me.

There was a fleeting feel of discomfort. I'd sneakily waited for him to lie down on the beach and become absorbed in a book before quickly pulling off my top and shorts and hurrying to the shoreline. I may have seen Edward in all his glory, but Edward had certainly not seen me. I felt a little exposed in my white and blue striped bikini.

But then I thought of all the times he'd seen me around the house wearing a tank and short-shorts pyjama set and told myself to stop being so stupid. It was just skin. We'd also had the 'embarrassed' conversation this week and it was something else that I'd promised to work on for him.

Perhaps I had some sort of medical condition when it came to listening and learning.

I hummed and settled back against his chest, highly aware of the feel of him. He was wearing nothing but a pair of black board shorts and believe me when I say, they trumped _the glasses_. Hussy had long since fainted, the result of one too many iced teas and a lot of Edward on show. I was all on my own, left to face off with his perfection.

Oh, the trials of life!

Inner snorted.

I threw some wet sand at her.

Edward's forearms snaked around me and my chin found purchase against them as we stared off at the ocean together, quietly lost in thought.

"What's got you looking so thoughtful?" He asked silkily, his nose skimming over my temple.

I attempted to ignore the feel of his thighs pressing against my own and responded, "It's really pretty here."

What? It was…

"I'm glad you like it."

"I do." A bewildered smile played at my lips and I found myself shaking my head. "It reminds me of Central Park."

"Central Park? How so?"

I brought my knees up and into my chest, tilting my head to the side as Edward's lips began working their magic.

"They both kind of stun you, you know? The city's so boxed in and grey, it's a little hard to believe that you can find places like this so close to it."

I felt his mouth twitch against my throat and could picture his smiled agreement without needing to see it. "That was part of the appeal when I bought the house on Bethune Street, there was outdoor space. It's easy to forget the concrete jungle surrounding you when you can see a little green."

I turned to beam at him. "My thoughts exactly."

Edward's fingers deftly moved toward my sunglasses, pulling them easily from my face and setting them aside. "They _do_ say that great minds often think alike," he brushed my hair back, gazing at me deeply. "Your eyes look stunning in the sun, has anyone ever told you that? They've got the tiniest flecks of amber in them."

I said nothing in response, it was better that way. He didn't like it when I argued against his compliments and shot them down through awkwardness. What would have become a verbally uncomfortable, 'my eyes look like mud, Edward', was now nothing but a mute countenance that I channelled inward. It was hard for me to believe that a man with treasure filled irises could find anything attractive about my dull, brown orbs. Who on earth possesses emeralds and then stops to admire lumps of coal?

"I can _hear_ you disagreeing with me in there." His pointer finger lightly tapped the centre of my forehead, before arching over my brow and trailing down my cheek.

My smirk was slow building but defined. "I thought you said you couldn't read minds."

"I'm learning to read you, Miss Swan. It's not always an easy art."

"I didn't have you pegged as the nosy sort, Mr. Cullen. I think I object to this new 'art' you speak of."

"But it's becoming such a helpful skill to possess." He leaned in and brushed his lips lightly over mine. "I think I'll stick with it. It's quite addictive."

"You are strange," I chuckled, turning back to face the water.

"Is that so?"

"Mmm."

"I think I object to that statement."

"And yet it was such fun to make."

Edward scoffed, causing my laughter to peak.

We drifted into a companionable silence, watching as the Atlantic Ocean calmly sloshed all around us. It really was a beautiful day. I decided that this was a magical place. Of all the things that I'd seen and done since arriving in New York, this certainly snatched the top spot. This, right here, was my Disneyland.

I'd always enjoyed going to First Beach with Angela, the tide pools there had given us both many giggles each and every time I fell into one. We had our own 'spot' on that beach, it was a place we'd always gone to unwind and forget about high school drama. It was an escape. I had always appreciated the place, but the constantly overcast weather made it hard to think on it as a picturesque setting. The sand was sparse and mostly replaced with pebbles and rocks; the water was always too cold to even wade in, the waves relentlessly crashed violent thunder and the constant rain that chased the Olympic Peninsula made it difficult to settle down there for any extended period of time.

It wasn't like here. This little sliver of heaven was almost perfect, in my eyes. I'd never been anywhere like it before.

I was unbelievably comfortable. I found my eyes closing and shifted further back into Edward's embrace, humming my contentment. The feel of his nose skimming my throat was soothing and familiar and I welcomed it.

"Are you falling asleep on me?"

I yawned.

"Quite possibly. Any objections?"

"Only one."

"One?"

"Uh-huh. If I fall asleep, we'll both drown."

Oh.

I snuggled in even more. If it was a case of playing chicken, I wanted to win this one.

"There _is_ a way around that."

"I'm all ears, Isabella." He responded dryly.

Yeah… he knew what was coming.

"You can take first watch."

"_Or_ I can move you up to the sun loungers and out of harm's way."

"Eh," I smiled, nuzzling into his neck. "Either option works for me."

Edward chuckled, his hold tightening.

"I'm going in for a swim. Would you like to come or would you rather pass out?"

Pass out, definitely pass out.

"I don't swim."

There was humour in his voice as he asked, "Did you tell your swim coach that?"

"I sure did. She's very persistent."

"If she's persistent it means she wants you, sweetheart. No college coach is going to go to the effort she did unless she thinks you'd be a valuable asset."

I sighed.

Clapp certainly had put in the effort, though Lord only knows why. Her _cat in a bag_ evaluation hadn't been far off.

"I'm not really even on the team, she just wants my times. I guess the deal works for both of us." I glanced back up at Edward and squinted. "She came to check up on me yesterday and told me she'd seen lit cigarettes do better in water."

Edward lips twitched.

"She sounds…" he trailed off, searching for the right word.

"She's Lucifer incarnate." I supplied. "Maybe there's method to her madness though; I beat my initial top time yesterday. She was so happy she stopped throwing floats at me _while_ I was trying to swim."

That hadn't been much fun.

"I once had golf balls thrown at me during an interterm championship back at Brown," Edward thought out loud. "Funny, I always thought the coaches would become less barbaric in their methods over time. Do you need me to speak to someone about her, have her dial it down a little?"

I shook my head. "No, it's fine. It sounds bad, but I think she means well, in a bizarrely warped sort of way."

"Are you sure?" His fingers laced with mine and squeezed. "She shouldn't be treating you like that, Bella. You don't have to put up with it."

"It's not as if she's singling me out, it's just her way. She's a bit like you, you know," I reached up to tease his lips with my pointer finger, only to have him playfully snap at it. "You've both gone out on a limb to help me in an unorthodox way. I'm grateful."

He cocked his head, smiling, and arched his eyebrows.

"Grateful enough to come for a swim with me?"

"My self preservation trumps my gratefulness, so no. I'd rather live."

"What is it with you and water?" He quizzed softly. "Your coach obviously saw something impressive. Making Columbia's swim team isn't an easy feat, Bella. You're up against others who've been scouted and offered scholarships; others who have been swimming their whole lives. How can you be good enough to catch a coach's eye when you dislike the sport so much?"

I shifted.

"Being half decent at something doesn't always equal enjoyment."

Edward hooked a finger beneath my chin and brought my eyes up to meet his. "True, but swimming's a learned skill. We're not pre-programmed as humans to know how to do it, it takes practice. With a little practice, surely you'd garner a fraction of confidence in the water? You don't have to enjoy it, but if you've been taught the _how_ then what happened to your self-assurance in your ability _to do_? You can swim, very well by the sounds of things, yet you're nervous."

I frowned.

Truthfully, I had just never enjoyed it. Well, that wasn't strictly accurate. There may have been a time that I did, but I was young. I had lessons like every other kid, but my mom and dad used to pull me out of them constantly for whatever whimsical reason took their fancy. There had never been any consistency in my lessons; it made it hard to learn.

Perhaps that was the reason behind my anxiety. I'd learned the basics, but the general discrepancies that surrounded my young life had impacted my confidence, on refining my abilities.

"I…" I started, biting my lip. "I used to have lessons, but I always missed quite a few. By the time I went back to them, the group was further on and I would either have to try and play catch-up or drop down to a junior class. I guess it was kind of unsettling," I shrugged.

Some of my peers used to bully me for being moved down. It was always a little humiliating, being held back. I gave up eventually, sick of the unwanted attention.

"Why would you miss lessons, Bella?"

I laughed lightly, shaking my head in remembrance. "My dad moaned about the cost, my mom's just odd. Sometimes they'd stop as a punishment; I was a clumsy kid."

Edward made a distinctively unhappy, growl-like noise. I wasn't sure if I wanted to giggle at it or grimace.

"Do you think Tyler can help you?"

"We'll see. He has a lot of patience and seems to want to help, a bit like someone else I know. In fact," I sat up, turning toward Edward on my knees, "with all the good floating around in the people I'm meeting, I bet I could take snatches of them all and make me another architect."

I raised my eyebrows playfully, hoping to entice a smile from his now much-too-serious face. It worked, sort of.

"Another architect, am I that easily replaced?"

I leaned in, barely brushing my lips against his. "You're right, that's greedy. I'll make him a lawyer instead."

Edward narrowed his eyes.

"I'm being replaced by some law knowing ass who can find a loophole in our contract? Oh Miss Swan, that just won't do."

I grinned, happy to see his sombreness dissipate and wrapped my hands around the back of his neck.

"Is that offer of moving me to safety still on the table? The twenty foot walk looks a little long."

What? I had a late night…

(-)

Dinner was a feast fit for kings. After a long walk on the beach and a several hours spent doing absolutely nothing but absorbing the heat, we exhaustedly tucked into plates of lemon and herb seasoned tilefish with a mozzarella and sweet pepper salad. Delicious didn't quite cut it. The man could cook.

It was startling just how tiring doing nothing was. It was true though, I fell asleep out on the balcony straight after dinner.

I woke up in bed, alone. Edward certainly had a knack for lifting and putting me places. I definitely needed to work on sleeping less heavily.

I tossed and turned restlessly, my long naps during the daylight hours having finally caught up to play havoc with my night-time clock. I was wide awake.

I waited for sleep to take me again. And waited. And waited some more.

I watched the alarm clock on the side table as it ticked by ten minutes, then thirty, then forty-five and then finally an hour.

Still, sleep didn't come.

I was completely alert with only a nagging sense of unease to keep me company. And I knew exactly what that unease meant, though I desperately tried to quash it down.

Another hour passed. The clock flashed a mocking 2:15AM at me and I stuck my tongue out at it. Stupid thing.

I eventually resorted to counting sheep in my head.

One sheep.

Two sheep.

Three Sheep.

Four sheep.

_There's only one bedroom. _

Five sheep.

Six sheep.

_Where does that leave Edward?_

Seven sheep.

Eight sheep.

Nine sheep.

_Oh God, was the poor man on the sofa?_

Ten sheep.

Eleven sheep.

_He's six foot two; his feet will be falling off the end!_

Twelve sheep.

Thirteen sheep.

_These sheets smell all wrong…_

Fourteen sheep.

Oh the hell with this!

Throwing back the covers, I grabbed a pillow and stalked from the bedroom, silently padding my way up the cold, hardwood stairs.

The familiar tapping of Edward's fingers hitting his laptop keys greeted my ears and I winced, knowing that he was still awake.

Was that my fault? Had he felt forced to stay up because I'd taken his room?

I rounded the staircase and my eyes fell upon chaos. Plans and documents littered the floor and coffee table, which had been dragged closer to the sofa. Wires and cables were strewn about, connecting two laptops together, one of which Edward was glaring at, looking a little like he might throw it from the balcony any moment. There were manuals and bound folders and books everywhere, some open, some scattered half way across the room. It hurt my eyes.

The mess reminded me of Seattle and of Edward's private workroom at home. To him, this was organised disorder. This was how he worked. He would know the placement of every item within the room and he would know if something was moved so much as a fraction to the left. How? I had no idea. It looked like a tornado had swept its way through here. Personally, it baffled me how any being could work effectively like this. But Edward, well, he could – he did. I guess we all had our funny ways.

While he was evidently focussed on the task at hand, his posture told me that things weren't going very well. As I glanced around more thoroughly, I found myself guessing at the problem.

"Missing your light table?"

It may have only been two weeks, but two weeks living with somebody's constant presence could tell you a great deal about them. It was comical, really. I mean, two weeks – it sounded like nothing, no time at all. Yet it had been enough time for me to pick up on a few of Edward's habits, some of his more pernickety ways. It was enough, for instance, to clue me in on how Edward generally liked to work. While his plans were always digitally formatted in their finalised forms, he liked to use his hands, he liked to _draw_. Computer programming frustrated him if used as a base conceiver of ideas.

Edward's mind was complex, the way he thought, the way he visualised things in his mind, it was sheer genius. Edward didn't create multi-storied buildings using computer software, he saw it all in his head first, layer upon complicated layer. His mind was a bare blueprint, his thoughts filled it in. Like I said - genius.

When things came to him, he drew them. He didn't stop to boot up a laptop and wait for a programme to load, only to then become incensed when the complications of manoeuvring the mouse here, there and everywhere slowed him down. All of Edward's ideas started by hand, the electronics simply told him if what he was attempting to accomplish was doable, and for the most part, his mathematical mind could figure the answers out itself. Spending hours inputting tiny details, only to then be told 'not possible', could be cripplingly aggravating. More so when spending half an hour putting pencil to paper could have told him what he needed to know much, much sooner.

Unfortunately for Edward, he was in Montauk working on a project that had eighty-five floors and was going to span an incredible height of one thousand, two hundred feet. It would make it the tallest building in the whole of Australia to date. How do you work out the inside schematics of a multi-level building, by hand, when you can't trace accurately?

His glasses framed eyes shone at me, startled but slowly morphing into something much softer as he looked from me to the pillow I was clutching.

"Did I wake you?"

"No," I shook my head. "You look tired, have you slept at all?"

"Too much to do." He set his laptop down onto the table and began clearing a space on the sofa for me.

I tiptoed with great care over discarded books and piles of documents, mindful to disrupt _nothing_. I eased myself down into the small space he'd created and handed him my pillow.

"Is this for me?"

I sighed, snuggling into his side while glancing at the meticulous 3D plan his laptop was displaying. "No, it's for me. Would you mind rubbing your head over it or something? It smells wrong."

"What do you mean it smells wrong, sweetheart? I had housekeeping come in to freshen the place up before we arrived. The linens should have been laundered."

"Oh, no, it's clean. It smells nice, just… _off_."

"Off?"

"Off," I confirmed. "Not like home."

Edward chuckled, wrapping his left arm around me. "Oh Bella, you are too precious."

I grumbled out nothing in particular but smiled stupidly up at him when he placed the pillow behind his head, laying back on it.

That was more like it!

"How's it going?" I pointed a finger in his computer's direction.

"Slow," he swiped a hand exhaustedly across his jaw. "Very slow. The lighting in here's an issue and I have to make some internal adjustments to the top three floors."

"I thought everything had already been finalised?"

"It had. The owner's son however has now decided he wants walls and rooms moved and the changes he's demanding alter the layout of the two floors above. The owner doesn't want anything changed on his floors. I want to kick them both."

"I'm sorry. Do you need us to head home? This looks kind of important."

"Absolutely not. I'll get it done, it's just more time consuming." He removed his glasses to rub at his eyes before replacing them. "I can't see it as well relying on the programme, it's a little frustrating."

I could see said frustration written as plain as day across his features. He really did look tired and fed up. Knowing Edward though, he'd keep going. He would power on regardless.

What he really needed was to draw. He needed lots of light. He also needed to sleep.

I began chewing on the inside of my cheek, thinking.

The tables here didn't have glass tops, so they were useless to help. The kitchen cabinets were all wooden and the bathroom cabinet was small and had a mirror covering it.

"What about the windows?" I looked over to the large French doors. They were huge. He could tape his plans up, one on top of the other…

"Not enough light."

"What about putting a lamp or two out on the balcony? Are there any outside lights?"

"There are, but they aren't close enough. The lamps would shadow from the ground."

I pulled back to glance at him. "You'd need the light face on?"

"Ideally, yes."

"Which lamp has the highest watt bulb? I could stand out there and hold it for you. Would that work?"

Edward cocked his head and smiled affectionately down at me.

"Bella, you'll get cold standing out there."

Oh for the love of…

I rolled my eyes. "I'll put on a sweater. You won't be that long anyway, not at the speed you draw."

And that's how I ended up outside on a balcony in Montauk, at three in the morning, wearing my pyjamas, one of Edward's sweaters and a pair of his socks, in the freezing cold, holding an ornate, yet extremely heavy Tiffany lap. Well, it used to be a Tiffany lamp, now it just resembled a pretty base with a permanently blinding, mega watt bulb attached to it. I feared ships would mistake it for a lighthouse, seriously. Ten minutes in and I was seeing so many spots, I had to ask Edward to go and grab my sunglasses. He couldn't find them. I ended up with his.

I'd looked better.

Socks _and_ sunglasses. I feared I wore my hangover with more class.

My arms were throbbing, but I was determined to do this for him. Yes, it may have been killing me slowly, but I was likely making Popeye proud. With every negative comes a positive, right?

He had taped up plans of the top two floors and then covered them with a bare outline of the lower floor. He'd completed three, discarded one and was currently working on what I hoped would be the final idea. I wanted to hurt the would-be owner who was commissioning the build, preferably using the lamp. I think the shining silver base was starting to heat up and glow amber the longer it stayed attached to the bulb. I wouldn't be at all surprised if we blew Montauk's power grid at this rate.

"How you doing, Bella?" Edward's eyes remained trained on the plan. He had a pencil tucked behind each ear and two between the fingers of his right hand, which he'd been expertly flickering between while he sketched.

It wasn't until I was positioned outside, with nothing to focus on but the man before me, that I realised Edward was wearing nothing but a pair of navy blue sleep pants. Do you know what it's like having to stare at a beautiful man crafting and honing his truest skill, while topless and flexing and shifting and just… just…

I blew out a ragged breath.

It had been torture. Absolute torture. The weight of the lamp was too heavy to hold in one hand. That made the task of wiping drool away somewhat difficult.

Hussy didn't seem to mind one iota. She'd pressed herself up against the glass and breathed all over it; making little love heart shapes in the condensation.

"Fine," I smiled tightly.

I think I needed some gloves.

"Two more minutes, sweetheart. I'm nearly done."

My eye twitched.

"Take your time!"

_Hurry the hell up!_

I think my hands were starting to blister.

It was the longest two minutes of my life. I would never take lying in bed restless and unable to sleep for granted ever again. Oh, no I wouldn't!

When Edward finally pulled his hands from the glass and quickly scanned the paper, I felt my insides gearing up to do a Mexican wave.

He beamed as he glanced up at me from over the plans. My returning smile was cartoonish, full of teeth and forced. I'd officially blacklisted his bathroom floor and this frickin' lamp as dangerous items, no human should ever have to suffer them.

The French doors were thrown open and Edward came toward me, taking the light from my hands and wincing.

"I forgot how heavy this thing was." He quickly snapped the switch off and set it down inside. I'd rather have seen it go over the balcony, _accidentally on purpose_. "Are you alright? Let me see your hands."

"They're fine," I cringed as he started his inspection. They felt a little chafed. The heat from the bulb had definitely warmed the base, making my palms sweat and rub against the intricate metal design. "They're just a little red."

"Oh Bella, I told you to tell me if it was too much. I think I've got some first aid cream somewhere…"

I ignored that; they'd be as good as new with a splash of cold water. I'd definitely had worse.

"Did you get what you needed?"

"Yes," he said distractedly. "Jesus, I didn't mean to hurt you."

"I'm not hurt."

They kind of hurt.

"You're shivering, let's get you in and warmed up."

I wasn't about to argue.

Leading me by the arm, Edward walked us back into the living room and closed the door, flicking down the lock. I removed his sunglasses in a vain attempt to dial down the overall special that was my appearance, but found myself not quite sure of where to put them. Shrugging, I held them out to Edward. As he turned back to me, his eyes went straight to my feet and I _saw_ the damn smirk pulling at his lips.

"If you even think about laughing, I'll consider beating you with that damn lamp."

His jaw trembled and twitched as he attempted to school his expression. "Wouldn't dream of it."

Humph.

He came toward me. "Allow me."

I went to object, thinking he was about to bend down and remove the ridiculous looking, much too large socks that were flapping around over the tops of my toes, but instead, Edward scooped me up. In a flurried whoosh, I had my back pressed to the glass door, flat against his plans. His sunglasses tumbled to the floor.

I let out a breathless, 'oh' and shivered as Edward's fingers began to glide, agonisingly slowly, down the length of my right leg.

Oh my.

"I think I'm rather partial to seeing you in these," he whispered, his nose skimming my jaw.

I met his gaze and sarcastically remarked, "Maybe I should wear them more often then."

"Hmm."

His fingertip dragged across the back of my calf and the muscle there tensed instinctively.

Jeez, that felt nice.

"I think you tease, Miss Swan. That isn't very nice." His pointer finger hooked around the elastic of the sock, delicately circling the skin beneath it. "You shouldn't make promises you don't intend to keep."

The sock was eased from my foot, inch by slow, torturous inch and Edward's knuckles brushed against my toes as he balled and then discarded it to the floor.

"I think you tease. I look ridiculous."

Edward cracked a smile. "You look typically _Bella_. I think I'm rather partial to that as well."

Christ, my inner thighs were clinging to his bare waist, skin on skin. Ice on fire, my cold to his hot. Oh, I could _feel_ it.

"Have I said thank you, for doing that for me?" He started working my left leg, in exactly the same fashion.

I shook my head, gulping.

The left sock fell to the floor.

Edward's hand ran up my calf, lightly squeezing and massaging the muscle. His body pressed me further into the door as both hands started to glide up and over my knees.

I felt more than heard his thanks, his mouth making the silently worded movement against my lips.

"You're welcome," I stuttered out, almost inaudibly.

I felt his breath against me, I felt his arms contracting with each and every pinch of my skin, I felt the heat of his body pressing up against me and the cool of the glass soaking through my sweater behind me. My face burst into tingling flames as Edward's tongue snaked out to moisten his lips, catching mine in the process. And I was done, confident in my surrender.

I watched his eyes flash as my hands wound into his hair, pulling and tugging him further into me. It was desperate relief to feel him kiss me, languidly at first before becoming impassioned with each new explored part of my body. Thighs, hips, sides, ribs, waist… Good Lord. Beneath my arms, the top of my chest, my shoulders, the base of my neck and up past my throat. My face and hair were given fevered attention before his hands reached back, clasping mine and bringing them up and up and up until they were pinned to the glass above my head. I heard the paper I was leaning against rip. He turned my palms over, flattening them against the cold pane. I moaned at the sensation, my irritated, reddened skin instantly cooling. Edward pushed them further against the glass, tangling his fingers with mine.

His tongue swept against my own, deliciously teasing as it tangled with mine. My thighs clung tighter to his side and I felt his shoulders caging around my face. I was assaulted with those feelings again, the ones that appreciated my small female form being utterly encompassed by his large male one. It was safety, it was home - it was heavenly.

Everything he threw at me, I threw back. He gripped my fingers, I crushed his. He weighted against me, I arched my back and pushed against him. His lips attacked, mine called in the General for backup.

My bad week dissipated into nothing. I poured myself into him. I rid myself of every single negative we'd come up against this week and determined to replace each crappy memory with this – with him. I felt as though he was reaching in and touching something deep within me, something lost but not completely gone. It was startling just how right it felt, how wonderfully assured I was in my own reactions. A few weeks ago this would have frightened me, but I was learning Edward. My body was memorising him like a map, finding the right paths for me to wander and taking me through the safest routes.

The sparks that ignited around us in moments like this turned into a miniature firework display. The nearness, the bare flesh, the cold glass, our breathing – it felt incredible, all of it. And I wasn't scared, because I could do this now. There was no burning, there was no discomfort, there was no push for more and no hour glass being held above my head, pressing for a quickened pace. We were just us, making our own time, our own rules.

I pulled back, breathless and alarmed when I heard the plans tear again. I froze, daring to move no further. I didn't want to risk his hard work being ruined.

"They're fine, Bella." Edward's fingers tensed around mine and he moved against me, my back catching the paper again.

I cringed. "I'm wrecking them."

Edward smirked devilishly, moving his body downward against mine. The tear that followed was _huge_. "Why, so you are."

My eyes bugged.

"Did you just-" I started, shocked by his apparent disregard, only to be cut off by his mouth. I sank back into him, uncurling and flexing my fingers around his.

"It's all up here now," he knocked his forehead against mine gently, his breathing heavy. "Stop worrying."

His hands dragged from mine, right down the length of my sweater clad arms to grip at my waist. "We should get you into bed; I kept you out there too long."

I nodded, flushed and unable to articulate much more than the simple head movement.

Edward peeled us away from the glass, turning toward the stairs. My arms wound around his neck for added support and his hands came to rest dangerously close to my backside, on the underside of my thighs.

_Oh. My. _

I watched his eyes carefully as he descended the stairs. He may as well have been gliding; his movements were just so unbelievably graceful, even with my added weight. His foot lightly kicked the bedroom door open and I found myself suddenly clinging to him, my earlier unease flowing right back. When he eased his grip to set me down, I jumped further up his body and dug my fingernails into his skin. Edward hissed between his teeth and I began mumbling out an apology, without relinquishing my imbedded nails.

"Bella?"

"Hmm?"

The bed loomed before us and I cast an anxious look its way.

"Are you alright?"

"Uh-huh."

I stared at the innocuous piece of furniture. The thought of getting back into it was wholly… _unappealing_. The linens didn't smell right. That bed was just all wrong.

"Could you perhaps retract the claws, angel? I think you're about to hit bone."

"Sorry," I said distractedly, lightening my clamped grip.

I mean, it's not that the bed was _uncomfortable_. I'd slept fine in it twice already having been laid down while unconscious; it was _getting_ to sleep while in it that had proved a challenge.

I bit my lip.

Could I maybe ask if Edward… no, that was silly. Or was it? Yes, it was. And quite bold. Would it seem bold? Probably. Would he consider it? Hmm. Did I have the guts to ask? My flaming blush told me not.

Gah!

"Hey," he whispered, running his nose over my cheek. "What's the matter?"

_I'm a crazy person_.

I didn't answer. Instead, I contemplated how many hours I could spend napping during the day to make up for the loss of sleep I was going to suffer through now.

"Bella?" I frowned, looking up at him as he walked toward the bed and set my feet down on the mattress. "Out with it."

I sent him a pleading look, exactly what I was trying to signal I wasn't entirely sure myself. I just knew that I had, without a doubt, felt more relaxed pressed up against a cold, glass door than I had when I woke up in this bed. A bed that I was about to get back into. Edward was going to leave and head back upstairs, taking his lovely, this-is-home scent with him.

I started to knot my fingers together.

_Just damn well ask him!_

I couldn't, what if he said yes? Oh God, what if I asked and he said _no_?

_This is Edward! When has he ever said no to you?_

But we'd be sleeping, you know, _together_. I'd never done that before. Wouldn't he find a request like that a little audacious coming from me – the original blusher?

_Can hunt down a sugar daddy but cannot bring self to sleep in the same bed alongside another adult. I can't work with you anymore, you're a moron! _

"Bella please, you're worrying me. Did I do something?"

_SEE! _My mind screeched. _Now you've made him feel bad!_

I swallowed, feeling utterly out of my depth. How could any sane person be alright with steamy kisses pressed up against a balcony door, and yet not have the damn backbone to pluck up the courage and ask one simple little question? I was a walking contradiction of all things ridiculous. I really, truly was. And Christ, it wasn't as if I was a stranger to waking up to Edward's face – he'd kept watch over me on Tuesday night. Why was I so nervous about this?

I closed my eyes and took a deep, deep breath.

"Canyoustayinherewithmeplease?"

Smoother sentences had definitely been spoken.

No response.

Wonderful.

I was officially having one of those _Tom and Jerry_ moments where the cartoon character morphs into a donkey, sounding out 'eeee-orrr' noises.

The bed covers shifted beneath me. I peeked one eye open, two just seemed more frightening somehow. Edward was getting into bed.

_Oh. _

_OH._

He slid over to the right side, clearly knowing that I liked to sleep on the left. "You might want to take the sweater off; it can get warm in here in the mornings."

I nodded mutely, blinking, and fell to my knees, scrambling toward the top of the bed. "Thank you."

Edward's hand shot out to grip my chin, turning my face toward his. I stilled. "You don't need to thank me. I understand, Bella."

He understood? He understood what, my pathological need to constantly boarder along the lines of insanity?

I shrugged it off, removed the sweater and clambered in. I didn't want to delve into anything 'deep', it was too late. I set my head down and realised I was missing my pillow, not that it really mattered anymore – I could smell home right next to me.

~*AMtDR*~

"Well that was anticlimactic," I sighed, folding the book closed and setting it down.

Edward's head stirred. I'd woken up this morning to find him resting against my bare stomach; he'd since seemed to have found a new favourite place to rest.

"Not the ending you were hoping for?"

Oh, still sleepy.

I smiled fondly, continuing to run my fingers through his soft hair. He'd pretty much slept all day, on me. I think it was the most relaxed I'd ever seen him. He'd been tired this morning and despite my protests that he should catch up on sleep, he was determined to show me more of Montauk.

And show me he had.

We were currently bobbing along with the ocean's waves, on his boat. Yes, you heard correctly. Admittedly, my initial reaction to the planned trip made me feel as though I should pop a Xanex. Don't judge me; there was a lot of open sea in Block Island Sound and we weren't exactly out on some large cruiser, wildlife spotting. Luckily for my nerves, some fabulous being had invented life vests. Problem solved.

It had taken Edward two hours to coax me out of it.

I wasn't exactly educated in sailing or boat talk or whatever the hell you want to call it. I'd managed to pick up on the fact that Edward's baby was a thirty-two foot, Italian craftsmanship at its best, dream come true. That was pretty much it. It was luxurious, with darkly varnished, highly polished wood and cream leather seats. The minute he started talking about 'berths', 'navigation', 'hydraulic steering systems', 'bow rigs' and 'mooring ropes' however, my brain admitted defeat and screamed _man overboard!_

Edward was a member of some fancy pants yacht club, located next to Lake Montauk. He had a private mooring there and the exclusivity of the place even seemed to make him uncomfortable. The owners had fawned all over him for a solid thirty minutes before we managed to escape. They were the sort to enunciate the word _darling_ after every second word and didn't seem to like me very much. Just a head's up – don't go to an elite yacht club and ask if the difference between a boat and a yacht is the 'white sail things'. The people there may not appreciate your ignorance.

We'd circled the lake twice, with Edward pointing out various sights before he sped us toward open water. I may have tightened the strap on my life jacket at that point. I'd found neither his suggestion to have _me_ drive the boat nor his flippant, 'fancy a swim?' remark amusing. Both options ended with the doors to the Emergency room smacking me in the head as far as I could tell.

Suffice to say I passed, much to the architect's amusement.

He'd taken us around Star Island and out, right the way around the Hampton's eastern, leafy edge. The greenery was mind blowing. We trailed the beaches and I'd snapped a picture of the two of us when Montauk Point Lighthouse came into view, proudly standing tall up on the cliff wearing its red and white stripes. We saw Edward's condo and even the sun loungers we'd rested on yesterday before he jetted us out further from the shoreline.

The experience was both thrilling and terrifying. When I wasn't hanging on for dear life, I was clicking my camera furiously. Edward was in his element out here; he looked young and happy and I loved seeing him that way. Instead of sailing us back to the lake, he'd headed closer to the shore and anchored the boat, producing champagne and strawberries to toast away the weekend. We'd been out here for hours, sleeping, talking, relaxing, reading and generally just being. I almost didn't want to leave.

"Not the ending I was expecting," I murmured.

"What happened?"

"They didn't end up together, the author killed her off."

Edward peeked up at me, blinking his eyes open. "I thought the main character was put through hell for _three books_?"

"She was."

"I thought things were starting to look promising?"

"They were."

Edward's nose nuzzled into my stomach, making me giggle and jolt as the sensation began to tickle. "Did he ever admit to loving her?"

"Nope."

"But she was besotted with him?"

"Yep."

Edward blew out a breath. "That sounds utterly depressing, Bella. How did she die?"

"Duelling with another magician while trying to protect him."

Edward chuckled. "Go figure. Well, I guess it can't always be sunshine and roses."

I settled further back as Edward took up his position on my stomach, revelling in the glorious heat and the lulled rocking of the boat.

"Hmm," I ran my fingers through his hair again and smiled. "I guess not."

Roses weren't so great anyway.

I'd take sunflowers any day.

* * *

**Thank you to all those you voted AMtDR's way at the Simmer Awards. I'm stunned to announce that it bagged an Essence Award for best dazzled moment. Very surreal.**

**I've signed up to do another EPOV outtake, this time for the F4LLS. Details and blog link are on my profile if anyone's interested. There won't be any more outtakes for a while. **

**Fic recs:**

**Broken Headboards, Power Panties and Penis Charms by Nyddi. **

**Theories of Bellativity by kikki7**

**The Procrustean Bed by gemini13me (Olderward)**

**The Letter by changedbyedward (Rapperward)**

**Captive by Totteacher**

**Guarding Isabella by lindsay520**

**The Hood by Lawn Girl (Absolutely incredible fic, please, **_**please**_** go and read it!)**

**4****th**** x**


	17. Chapter 17

**Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight, no copyright infringement intended. **

**Hello... ;)**

* * *

"Happiness and sadness run parallel to each other. When one takes a rest, the other one tends to take up the slack."

~ Hazelmarie Elliott

_Chapter Seventeen_

Vanilla and coffee.

I smiled, lazily stretching my sleeping muscles out and turned toward the heavenly aroma. Oh, it smelled wonderful. My eyes landed on my mug, billowing the luscious, steamy vapour. God bless you Edward Cullen.

I hoisted myself up and settled back against the headboard, reaching for my morning wake up. We'd got back to the city late last night and as much as I wanted to pine for golden shores, I was so happy to be in my own bed – to be home.

The coffee was piping hot and delicious, and I sipped at it greedily. I choked however, sending streams of the scorching liquid down my throat with careless abandon. Once I caught my breath, I glanced up and my eyes settled on the two giant, helium filled silver balloons that were tied to the end of my bed. The first was a shaped number '1', the second a number '9'.

Oh.

I bit my lip, though my teeth soon slipped and fell away from my flesh as a happy, child-like grin spread across my face.

_Balloons_.

I'd never had balloons before.

It was September 13th – my Birthday. I was officially nineteen years old.

I set my mug back on my nightstand and scurried toward them. They really were quite large, and shiny. Let's not forget the shiny. I poked a finger at one and the tightly filled mass bobbed back and then forward. I tapped the other one, feeling my grin become larger as it seesawed next to its mate. A lovely mix of varying shades of green, curly ribbons tied the gleaming swells in place and I shook my head in awe. Even something as inconsequential as the ribbon colour was perfect, green because I loved green.

I crawled back up to the top of my bed, determined to sip my coffee and stare at my fabulous balloon numbers, when a small stack of items sitting on my unused pillow caught my eye.

Presents?

Tentatively, I reached out for the first; already knowing what would lay inside the little square box with the big green bow. The stunning new charm was so different from any of the other one's I'd been given before. Oval in shape, the striking black onyx and the beautifully innocent looking Virgo lady both marked a celebration of the month I was born. I attached it to my bracelet and wriggled my wrist, listening to the charms jingle and clang together as they made their music.

Next there was a medium sized, flat square gift that had been wrapped in shimmering silver paper. I opened it carefully, knowing full well that presents were meant to be ripped into but not wanting to damage the lovely paper. This was kind of new to me; I wanted to savour the moment.

The back of a photo frame presented itself and I turned it over to find that it was bordered by a delicate silver filigree design. It looked old, like some expensive antique that had been polished back to its former glory. There was a yellow sticky note attached to the glass that simply read, '_The discount would certainly be a large one. ~ E._' As I peeled it away, a photograph of a familiar looking building appeared, a Cathedral, as far as I could tell. It looked almost a little like the photo Edward had downstairs in his workr-

_Oh! _

I gasped, looking closer.

It wasn't that Cathedral, similar yes, but not that exact one. In fact, this wasn't a photograph, this was a drawing. Edward's scripted 'EAC' initials were inscribed in the bottom right hand corner, as were the words, 'Isabella's Cathedral' at the very top.

Oh holy crap! The man had designed me a Goddamn Cathedral.

"_Sure thing. I like that cathedral."_

"_Alright, so we're looking at a rather _large_ discount then."_

It was so detailed. There wasn't a speck of fine black ink out of place, the lines and alignment all flawlessly straight and perfect against the expensive, creamy paper. It could have been a print of some famous landmark looking the way it did, yet it wasn't. This had been drawn for me, especially for me, by a world renowned architect.

The thought that must have gone into it made my eyes sting and my throat ache in gratitude. I suddenly found myself dreading Edward's Birthday next June. What the hell do you buy for the guy who designs you some fantastical dream building? Talk about raising the bar, Cullen.

I set the frame down on my nightstand, tilting it at an angle facing my bed. I wanted it to be the very last thing I saw every night before I fell asleep.

A large green envelope was sitting on top of one final item and I reached for it, reading my name written front and centre in Edward's elegant script. Easing the card out, I frowned when several colourful pieces of paper fell from the inside, landing straight onto my quilt. Picking one up, I frowned even further.

Money. Strange looking money. A twenty, if the bill's number was anything to go by.

I picked up another, a five. More confused than ever, I turned my card over to find familiar images staring back at me – Edward and I smiling at each other in Central Park, me smelling a flower in Brooklyn's Botanical Gardens, New York's skyline at sunset, me looking ridiculous in green and wearing a witches hat on Broadway, an owl and I having a stare off at the zoo, me looking grumpy in the painting class we took and glaring down at my splotch filled canvas. It was my first week in the city staring back at me, though I hadn't taken any of these pictures with my camera.

_Happy 19__th__ Birthday, Bella!_

He'd had this made and personalised for me?

I opened the card. More of the strange money fell out, a great deal more.

_~ Bella ~_

_Hoping your 19__th__ Birthday is a happy one, sweetheart. _

_Looking forward to going 'many places' with you this Christmas. _

_Edward x_

Many places?

_Many places_…

I stopped breathing.

With fumbling fingers, I grabbed one of the newly printed, strange crisp notes and took a closer look.

Bank of England.

Pounds_._

The Queens face.

Good God. Fifties, twenties, tens and fives. It was English money. It was a lotof English money. I started to count, lost track completely, gave up and declared the final tally to be _much too much_.

But why?

I glanced at the final item, a box with a pretty Union Jack print on it. Nervously, I picked it up and lifted the lid. A neatly folded stack of papers met me. I reached out for the first and unfurled it, flattening out the creases.

It was an email that had been sent to Edward, a confirmation of booking.

I scanned it three times. I think my jaw hit the floor.

Pre-booked tickets to Madame Tussauds, The London Eye, Shakespeare's Globe Theatre and Exhibition, London Zoo, The Great Tower of London, St Paul's Cathedral, The London Dungeons, a West End musical, the Royal Ballet performing The Nutcracker at the 'O2' arena on Christmas Eve…

My heart thumped and pounded against my chest as I put aside the first sheet and unfolded the next one.

It was another email, another confirmation of booking.

A pre-booked trip to explore a little of Buckingham Palace, a London bus tour, a late evening Jack the Ripper walk, a literary London walking tour and a Boxing Day tour of Windsor Castle, Stonehenge and Bath.

My head started to spin.

This surely couldn't mean what I thought it did, could it?

I picked up the last sheet of paper. It was a final confirmation of booking, only this time, for first class plane tickets. Names and words sprung out at me – 'Edward Cullen', 'Isabella Swan', 'Departing New York (JFK)', 'London Heathrow', 'TUE DEC 20 2010', 'TUE JAN 04 2011', and so on.

Two weeks in England over the Christmas and New Year's break.

No, that couldn't be right. Surely there had to have been some sort of mistake!

'_If you want to go to England, I'll take you to England.'_

The words rang through my head again and again and again. I checked the date of the email, seeing that it had been sent to Edward this past Saturday. I couldn't believe it. I had the printed proof right there in front of me, and yet I just couldn't believe it. Me, in England, in just three short months?

But, Bella Swan doesn't get to go there.

Hussy had already started packing; the contents of her suitcase included her red sparkly 'I LOVE Me Some Older Man!' panties and a pair of fuzzy boots. That was all. She zipped up and declared herself ready for takeoff.

I set the printouts down with trembling fingers, my mind going a million miles an hour and incapable of properly processing my thoughts. I was speechless.

In a state of total disbelief, I shoved the papers back inside the box and shut the lid over it quickly, almost as though I was caging a dangerous animal. I stared at it guardedly and counted to two minutes. I flicked the lid back off. The papers were still inside. They were real.

A slow, tickling thrill of excitement started to buzz and hum around me as I reread the emails. I wasn't seeing things; Edward was taking me to London. It was all there, plain as day, printed in black and white. I was going to England!

I jumped up in a tangled rush, sending the box and stacked money scattering across the sheets. I raced toward my bedroom door and threw it open, not stopping before I lunged for Edward's door and tumbled through it. I vaguely registered the fact that he was clearly dressing for work, paused just outside of his closet and holding onto a pressed grey shirt. His messy hair was still damp from a recent shower and his black suit trousers hung just so upon his hips. I barely paid any attention to the fact that I'd just barged in and interrupted him, too keyed up for manners or decorum.

"We're going to England?" The words left me in an energized, whooshed breath.

He blinked. Twice. The shirt he'd been gripping fell from his grasp.

His eyes travelled down the length of my body and I saw the obvious bob of his Adams apple as he swallowed. Dazed, I peered down. I was in nothing but his shirt, which I'd stolen, again, hoping he wouldn't find out. Oops.

But I couldn't bring myself to care, flashing a little (a lot) of leg seemed rather inconsequential right now.

Still blinking and not looking entirely 'here', he responded, "If you'd like to."

The grin that spread across my face actually hurt. I threw caution and all sense of propriety to the wind and hurtled toward him, crashing into his still form and squeezing my arms around his neck. He stumbled back two steps but managed to right himself, wrapping his own arms around my waist slowly.

"_England?_" The word was like a prayer falling from my tongue, my tone one of winded astonishment. Names such as Shakespeare and Bronte and Austen jabbed my mind teasingly. "I can't believe it!"

Edward's arms tightened around me and I took the opportunity to hoist myself further up, tangling my legs around him like an eager boa constrictor.

"If I'd known it would make you this happy, I would've suggested going sooner," he murmured, amused. "I like your shirt, Miss Swan."

"Thanks, the owner has good taste." I didn't even blush, too caught up in my amazed moment to care.

"I can see that. It certainly looks much better on than I'd anticipated."

I smiled into his neck, inhaling his freshly showered scent. Oh, he smelled heavenly.

"Thank you so much, I've always dreamed of going." I was sincere in my gratitude, allowing my appreciation to pour out in torrents to drown him.

His hand smoothed down the back of my hair gently, the action so full of the caring affection I'd come to associate with Edward during our short time together. "You're welcome, Bella."

I pulled back, red faced and squirming with glee. "I'd better start winter clothes hunting, huh?"

His eyes shone back at me, a content smile playing at his lips. "You cover the coat; I'll cover the boots while I'm away."

I had no idea what that meant and had no desire to dwell on it, I was ecstatic.

"Best birthday ever," I whispered blissfully, lightly pecking his lips. "Really Edward, thank you."

"No, thank you. I really do like that shirt."

I bit my lip, looking a little guilty as I defended, "It's comfortable."

"Hmm," his nose skimmed my jaw. "Then by all means, keep it. No objections here, none at all." His lips brushed mine chastely, the touch but a feather light tickle. "While I've got you in such a good mood, we're dragging you out to celebrate tonight. Can you get home early? We need to leave at five thirty."

"Where are we going?"

He smirked. "It's a surprise."

My forehead creased. The man had just bought me plane tickets to spend two weeks overseas, wasn't that a gift enough to last several lifetimes? Oh, and let's not forget the huge-ass building he'd designed for me. I mean, I was used to a cheap card with twenty bucks stuck inside it come Christmas and Birthday's, not… not all of this.

"You haven't gone to any trouble, have you? You're already taking me to London, Edward, and you whisked me away to the Hampton's for the weekend. You're leaving early tomorrow morning; I don't want to be a nuisance. It's only a birthday."

I think I heard his teeth grind together.

"I swear, the more I learn of your mindset the more tempted I become to fly west and have an _encounter_ or two with certain family members of yours." He expelled a lengthy breath. "Your birthday is something to celebrate, we're celebrating. No arguments."

"Bu-"

His lips crashed to mine forcefully, completely cutting off my protest. "_No_ arguments."

"Okay, okay," I acquiesced, stunned. "I'll get home early."

"Mighty glad to hear it," he grinned, triumphant. Smugullen had returned. "Happy birthday, Miss Swan."

(-)

"_So_," Alistair sat down dramatically, pretty much making direct contact with Tyler's lap, and leaned across the table gleefully, a wicked twinkle in his eye. "Details, Swan! I missed Friday night's festivities; I need you to clue me in."

I swallowed the bite of ham sandwich which currently wanted to be retched back up and sought out my bottled water.

"Uh... we went out."

Ali rolled his eyes, waving my response away with brightly painted fingernails. "I know that! I want to hear all about this hunky architect you were singing about instead. Stop being selfish and share!"

Cosmopolitans were evil.

"There's nothing to tell," I lied, feigning ignorance while really wanting to question what the hell I'd said instead.

"I call bull."

Unease. Yes, I think that's what this was called.

"C'mon, Bella!" He pleaded. "Are you and him an item?"

I didn't know how to answer that. Edward and I had never really discussed what we 'were'. We didn't have a title, there didn't seem to be a need for one. He was Edward and I was Bella. We had an arrangement and it suited us both. That was all there was to it. Why did people always want a label? Labels were uncomfortable. Edward was thirty-nine, trying to brush Ali off with an, 'Oh, he's my boyfriend' type statement seemed entirely too inappropriate for words. We weren't together in a conventional sense, neither were we eight years old.

Were we even an item? I didn't know. What the hell was an item anyways?

I stared at my sandwich pitifully; it didn't seem to have any answers for me either. Swine.

"I guess," was my lame response.

Alistair squealed, loudly.

"You dark horse you! Why didn't you tell us you had some amazing guy to hand!"

"Ali, leave her alone," Siobhan scolded in her wonderfully calm and friendly manner. There was nothing inauspicious about the girl, she was just nice, a lot like Angela, I thought. Another Angela in the world was something to treasure.

Alistair's eyes widened in what was supposed to be a mock act of innocence. "Oh come on! You're interested too, admit it!"

Siobhan gave him a playfully stern look. "You're so nosy."

He didn't try to deny it, instead opting to turn back to me, looking determined and thirsty for answers.

"So, he's an architect?"

I nodded.

"Anyone we might know?"

I wanted to snort, but I didn't. Edward's firm had been brought in over the summer to make the necessary renovations to Earl Hall; his name was splashed all over September's campus newsletter, hailing one of Columbia's own for doing such a magnificent job of the restoration. If only Ali knew just how close to home Edward actually was.

I shrugged, hoping that by not being architecture fanatics or students, his name would mean little or nothing. "I'm not sure."

Alistair's entire form seemed to lean in closer, his eyes bugging and his head nodding eagerly. "Well, who is he?"

I looked to Siobhan for help, and then to Tyler. Unfortunately, both now seemed somewhat coyly keen to hear my answer. Traitors. Judas would be proud.

I shifted in my seat restlessly and began picking at the label on my water bottle. "His name's Edward."

I didn't miss the sudden look of comprehension that flashed across Tyler's face.

"Edward..." Ali rolled the name around, testing it out. "Kinda old fashioned."

I nodded again, lost.

"I like it," Ali decided. "How old is he? Have you been together long? Oh, oh! How did you guys meet?"

Even the area surrounding my belly button felt flushed as I tried to think up answers to sate his growing curiosity. The whole truth sure as hell wasn't an option, but I didn't want to catch myself out by spinning some detailed, deceptive web of lies either. Perhaps watered down was best?

"We sort of met online over the summer and... things just sort of went from there really."

Siobhan frowned, noticeably. "I thought you guys lived together?"

"We do."

Ankles were steadily reddening.

"But you only met over the summer?" She pushed, still frowning.

"Yes."

"Oh."

"Love at first sight," Ali sighed blissfully.

I bristled.

"No, nothing like that. I was struggling to find somewhere to live; he offered a helping a hand." Kate's words suddenly rang through my mind, and while at the time they'd kind of stung; now I was seeing them as opportunistic. You use the tools you've got to hand, right? I'd worry about the hypocrisy later. "For all intents and purposes, he took me on as a boarder. Bizarrely, it... worked out perfectly."

Ali looked like Christmas had come early. "So you weren't an item when you first met?"

"No."

"But you are now?"

I pushed my sandwich away, squirming. "It's complicated, Al." _And private_.

He winked at me, jovial in his gossipy delight. "Say no more, say no more."

Christ.

I knew right then that he'd have me saying a lot more at some point in the future. I wasn't looking forward to it.

Tyler thankfully changed the subject to something a little less mortifying – my birthday. The three of them had met me at the campus entrance this morning sporting gift bags and smiles. Something else I'd clearly mentioned while inebriated. Alistair had serenaded me with his own rendition of Happy Birthday. He even got down on one knee. A lot of people stared.

I was now the lucky owner of a small bottle of Coco Chanel perfume. Ali not only wore it, he swore by it. I still wasn't sure how to feel about that. Siobhan had given me a boxed classical poetry collection knowing that I was taking a class on it this semester and Tyler bought me an expensive pair of swimming goggles for our sessions. No more red eyes for Bella!

We ended lunch on a high note, making plans to go out tomorrow night and celebrate student style. Something told me that _student style_ meant cheap beer, loud music and lots of dancing. Oh, and a heavy barrage of questions from Alistair.

Yippee?

(-)

The person staring back at me in the mirror was a stranger. I didn't know her.

The stunning silky material swathing her body was beautiful and accentuated her small curves, the deep midnight blue colour of the dress against her slightly tanned skin gave her the illusion of glowing and the glittering silver pumps on her feet added four inches of height, making her legs look shapely and toned. Her chocolate brown hair had a healthy sheen to it, the natural curls tumbling down her back and around her face softly. Her face was no longer plain but passably pretty, with a natural blush to colour her cheeks and a pair of bright, excited eyes shining back at the strange reflection. But perhaps most striking of all was how much her image had changed in the space of a couple of weeks. Gone was the frail, gaunt looking girl who'd arrived in New York and in her place stood a young woman brimming with… _life_.

I frowned, pursing my lips.

I looked nice. Was it wrong for a person to think that about themselves? Would it be considered arrogant? Loathe as I felt to admit it to myself, I felt like this was the best I'd ever looked. I wasn't sure there was any 'topping' this.

Shrugging, I made my way to the bathroom. I looped my teardrop earrings from Vicky and James into my lobes and clipped my charm bracelet back onto my wrist. I eyed the new perfume bottle sitting on my side of the counter and figured a spritz wouldn't hurt. I took aim; it ended up in my eye. _Ow_. I let a silent curse fall from my lips and aimed again, blinking one eye at a time furiously. As I rubbed my wrists together and against my neck, I found that I agreed with Alistair, it was lovely perfume - temporary blindness aside.

I set the bottle back down just as Edward's door to the bathroom swung inward.

I had to do a double take in the mirror. The man cleaned up well, that was for damn sure.

I think I saw him do a double take of me.

Both almost frozen in a mild state of shock, our eyes met in the reflective glass and locked for what seemed like an age. His brilliant greens gleamed and his beautiful face held that same _blind man sees for the first time_ look that I'd encountered once before. His mouth opened once, twice, a third time, though no sound came out. Eventually, his lithe body fell against the doorframe, taking up his infamous _lean_ as he buried both hands into his pockets.

He blew out a breath, his gaze travelling up and down my body repeatedly.

"I think I'm scared to let you leave this house, Isabella."

I swallowed, copying his watchful actions as I took in his fitted black shirt and silvery grey dress pants that had cinched and tightened around his thighs as he crossed one leg in front of the other.

"Right back at you," I whispered brazenly, my cheeks heating not from my words, but at the sight behind me.

Illegal, illegal, illegal!

Edward's eyes widened, apparently caught off guard by my statement. "Is that so?"

I nodded weakly, my eyes trailing back to that one particular area that seemed to get me all awestruck and flummoxed, made worse by the fact that I could picture exactly what was beneath those trousers. I knew what those thighs looked like, in the flesh.

I was blatantly ogling him, yet I couldn't find it within myself to be embarrassed, for Edward was doing some obvious ogling of his own. We'd been reduced to nothing but a pair of drooling ogler's.

_That's not even a word, Swan!_

I cared not.

Edward cocked his head. "You look incredible."

I removed my gaze from the danger zone and met his eyes once again, seeing nothing but absolute honesty staring back at me. For once, I didn't argue the compliment, not even internally. While _incredible_ may have been a slight stretch, I felt good about myself tonight. So instead, I murmured my thanks and turned to face him.

"Are the others here?"

"We're meeting them there. You ready to go?"

"I just need my bag," I waved a hand absentmindedly toward my room, but didn't move.

The corner of Edward's lip pulled. "Would you like to go and get it?"

"Sure."

Those trousers really did hang from his hips in a way that was simply indescribable. While Edward had looked all kinds of YUM this weekend in his swim shorts, there was just something about him fully dressed and looking every inch the successful architect that made me a little weak in the knees.

"Bella?"

I licked my lips. I think it definitely had something to do with the way the material hugged him, right around _that_ area…

"Hmm?"

"Your bag?"

I blinked. "My bag?"

Edward pushed himself away from the doorframe and walked toward me. "Are you alright?"

The material hugged him when he walked too. Hussy noticed. Her Thigh-God goggles were making her eyes spiral and swirl in a way that could only be described as cartoonish.

I swiped a sweaty palm brusquely over my hair and smiled. "Fine. Bag… I'll go get it." I stumbled clumsily over my feet as I turned to walk back into my room and began debating the unfairness of not being able to check the 'disabled' box on any forms that ever needed filling out. There was definitely something not quite right with my wiring.

I found my silver clutch at the end of my bed and opened it quickly to check that my wallet and camera were inside. I snapped it shut, grabbed my wrap and headed for the door, switching off the lights as I went. I met Edward out on the landing, just as he was shrugging into his suit jacket. I noticed that his collar was all askew and without even thinking, I stepped up behind him to right it. His scent was like a battering ram, instantly assaulting my senses and jumbling them into confusion.

"Thanks," he reached for my hand, clasping it within his much larger one. "Ready?"

"Ready," I confirmed.

We made our way down and out to a waiting taxi and ever the perfect gentleman, Edward held the door open for me. The space in the back was cramped, leaving our knees touching and our scents mingling. It was heady.

"Pier 81, West 41st and 12th please," Edward instructed casually.

Pier 81? Was that some fancy pants restaurant? Oh God, I hoped not. I may have scrubbed up half decently to look the part but I'd struggle to act it. Not that I meant to sound ungrateful, but I didn't want to end up embarrassing everyone, especially not on my birthday. A day sans mortification would be the ultimate treat.

Which one was the salad fork?

"So how was school today?" Edward started up conversationally, reaching for my hand again and playing with my bracelet. "You seem to have acquired a few more cards since this morning."

I smiled shyly, oddly thankful that my little rabble had remembered me today. Having people make an effort and want to celebrate along with you, well, it was nice. There hadn't been anything in the mail from my parents. "They met me at the gates this morning and just threw bags at me. Alistair sang. I might take my time forgiving him for it. Everyone was looking."

Edward chuckled. "He sounds like a character."

That was one way of putting it.

We kept the conversation light for the rest of the cab ride as I filled Edward in on mundane school stuff and he in turn, updated me on his travelling schedule. I learned that after Sydney, he'd be home for a few weeks before flying out to California. He looked a little uneasy as he told me about it, but I smiled and expressed my envy. California was home to some incredible beaches. He promised me we'd go next summer if I wanted to.

"We could spend a few weeks exploring the west coast, maybe rent an incredibly obnoxious, gas guzzling Mustang and drive to Las Vegas for a long weekend."

And I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he'd make good on it. That was the thing about Edward, he didn't talk about dreams that would never happen the way an ordinary person would. He made things happen, he stuck by his words.

Minutes passed, as did the winding traffic on our journey up 11th and then 12th Avenue. I felt the glittering water of the Hudson River reflect in my amused eyes as my head bobbed to the right, taking in the monstrously tall city on one side, and then to the left, where the calm river followed after us like a loyal friend. Such opposing sights, yet perfectly fitted together as one.

We turned right and oddly, we seemed to loop back on ourselves a little until the cab driver turned again and slowed to a stop outside a large blue sign.

World Yacht.

I glanced at Edward unsurely. He simply thanked and paid the driver, before climbing out and coming around to open my door. I took his offered hand, craning my neck to take in as much as I could.

The air was fresh and the city behind us was loud and buzzing. Edward pulled my hand gently, a sly grin on his face.

What was he up to?

We walked first through a barrier and then down a boardwalk lined with... ships? Yachts? Y'know, big floaty-boaty type things.

_Edward would be so proud._ Inner snarked as she studiously began flipping through a copy of, _You're Not Necessarily Doomed: How not to go down like the Titanic_.

He led me toward a large white vessel named 'Duchess' and didn't let go of me until we were safely onboard, being greeted by a waiter who offered us both a glass of something very bubbly. My bubbles depleted rather rapidly. Edward replaced my empty. Perhaps not a smart move.

Silently, we walked until we were inside of a huge floating dining room and I was left breathless, not for the first time today, as a loud chorus of, "Happy Birthday, Bella!" was yelled.

The room was filled with people, lots of people who were dining and celebrating, but it was hard to notice them. Instead, my eyes were fixated on a circular table surrounded by the people I did know. Emmett, James and Vicky were dressed to impress and smiling widely at me, waving their arms madly and beaconing to me. There were balloons hovering above the floor, green sashes tied into pretty bows on each chair, several bottles of something chilling in fancy silver buckets and an overflowing centrepiece of ivy and white roses. The occasional flash of a camera made me blink, but mostly, mostly I just stood there doing my very best fish impersonation.

And I remained that way, looking very fish-like, as hugs and greetings were given, as we were seated and handed menus, as I absent-mindedly ordered a Caesar salad followed by pan seared salmon, as glasses were filled and emptied and filled once again, as more camera flashes went off, as I unwrapped an antique watch from Edward who told me, as he was fastening it to my wrist, that he'd already set it to Sydney time, and as we ate and laughed and watched pieces of Manhattan float on by while we cruised along the Hudson. And when Edward pulled me up to dance, my feet didn't feel as though they were touching the ground.

"So Miss Swan, how does it feel being a whole year older?"

"I'm not sure. Ask me when I'm coherent."

Edward chuckled, the sound tickling my ear. "Do I need to sever ties between you and the champagne?"

"No. But when you next see that architect I live with, could you tell him for me that his _surprise_ rendered me mute for most of the evening?"

"Mute in a good way, I hope?"

I pulled back, astonished to find that Edward looked borderline nervous. Jeez. Edward nervous? Really? I think that was a new one. What on earth did he have to be nervous about – look at the day he'd just given me! It would take me nine weeks to fully process it all. I turned nineteen and people wanted to celebrate. I mean, I had cards this year, plural. And gifts. And an Edward who'd given me balloons and cake and a floating paradise.

Utterly bewildered, I smiled and reached up on my tiptoes to peck the man who'd also given me England lightly on the lips.

"Yes, Mr. Cullen. Mute in a very good way."

* * *

**Apologies if this seems hugely anticlimactic after the long wait. I've chopped the chapter lengths to speed up my writing, which seems to be working.**

**Massive thanks to Pixiekat7 for the Beta and to Jen for the pre-read. You both keep me going.**

**See you all hopefully next week!**


	18. Chapter 18

**Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight, no copyright infringement intended. **

**Oodles of love to Pixiekat7 for the Beta and Jen for the pre-read, and heartfelt thanks to everybody still reading and reviewing.**

**Small time jump time :)**

* * *

"Seize every opportunity along the way, for how sad it would be if the road you chose became the road not taken."

~ Robert Brault

_Chapter Eighteen_

Sinfully wicked witch.

Sexy kitten.

Naughty devil.

Vampire schoolgirl.

Playboy bunny.

Provocative maid.

_Burlesque dancer?_

Jesus H Christ. What the hell ever happened to slapping on a warty nose or wearing a ripped up old bed sheet? Halloween could kiss my ass at this rate. This website had even managed to defile Minnie freakin' Mouse!

"Uh... Edward, what do I wear for Halloween?" I scratched my head, seriously confused by what I was seeing. By the looks of things, my definition of spooky costume design was a little outdated. Apparently, the objective was to no longer look in the least bit scary.

He cleared his throat. "Are you looking for an appropriate response to that question, Bella?"

"Yes."

"Sweetheart, I don't think I can give you one."

"Oh don't you start!" I huffed, pinning my cell between my shoulder and ear while hastily googling other sites. "Emmett's been winking at me all week while throwing out random words like _milkmaid_. I expected more from you."

Edward merely laughed. It was a sound I'd come to almost treasure during his growing-ever-longer absence. Two weeks had rapidly morphed into five for his Sydney trip. By the time he was ready to fly home, he was already due to head over to the West Coast and start construction on some fancy pants Los Angeles apartment building. I hated to think what the starting price would be for the complex. We were nearing seven weeks without the architect. Not that I ever had long to dwell on him being gone - Emmett had forced me into joining his garage's paintball team. Nearly seven weeks of hating Em for this was proving a little exhausting.

"Is he behaving himself?"

How to answer that?

I'd been dragged into more sports bars than I cared to remember, subjected to hours' worth of innuendos from his mechanics, had learned some extremely disgusting language and I got shot in the ass last Saturday with a blue paint pellet. Brady's finger 'slipped'. But at the same time, Emmett repaid Brady for said 'slip' by stealing the guy's gun and then blasting him with his own pellets. He also picked me up on time every day after my classes were finished and was fiercely big brother protective of me any time we were out.

Did Em behave himself?

Yes and no. He chuckled when his 'boys' asked me which pin up was hotter, but threw heavy metal objects at them if he sensed so much as a shred of discomfort being projected from me when they took things, 'too fucking far, you prick!'

"Sure, he'll be here soon."

"Ah, paintball again?"

I groaned. "You know, you say you talked to him about it, but somehow I don't believe you."

"He's not easily swayed."

"_Not easily swayed_," I grumbled. "Admit it, you said nada."

"Now that's not true." I could hear the damn smile in his voice. "I mentioned it, _as per your request_, but he started to give me a complex with all of his, 'stop being such an old fart' remarks. Suffice to say I felt compelled to drop it."

I shook my head. "How very manly of you, Cullen."

"I'm forty next year and in denial. Sue me, Swan."

"I'll find that lawyer we talked about at the beach. Consider it done."

I think he growled.

"No lawyers."

I giggled. "'Kay. How was dinner last night?"

"About as much fun as a kidney infection, thank you for asking. I want to come home - I miss you."

I swallowed and started to take a great deal of interest in all the dust particles hovering in the air by the windows.

I still wasn't sure how to respond to those three little words. Did I miss him? I guess I did...? But I actually enjoyed being on my own and loved exploring the city. I liked hanging out with my friends and the rush to cram for my midterms had kept me more than occupied when Emmett, James and Vicky actually left me alone for ten minutes.

Alone. It was something I was used to being, but never really felt. Odd, I suppose.

In all honesty, missing Edward was a bit like a behaving Emmett. It was a _yes and no_ kind of deal. Something told me that I was supposed to miss him, but there was also something telling me not to. I didn't miss him in a conventional sense, perhaps that was the best way to put it. I was independent and happy with my own company. Desperate and pining would chafe like sequined fabric.

I was looking forward to seeing his smile again though, and to morning coffee wake up's and stolen kisses over breakfast.

"Well, you'll be back soon," I tried cheerfully, just as the front door slammed shut downstairs.

"SWAN, ass down here pronto! We've got shit to shoot, kiddo!"

"The baboon arrives," Edward quipped. "I'll let you get going. And by the way, if you just so happen to pop him in the head today, I think the stupidity might reverse itself."

"You think?"

"It's possible."

"You realise it could make him worse, then who's looking after him?"

"Point taken. I'll call later, have fun angel."

I ended the call and continued to frown at my laptop screen as Emmett bounded his way up the stairs in record time.

"Thank God, you're not hiding today!" He breezed into the room with complete familiarity, waltzing straight over to me. "Watcha looking at?"

"Halloween costumes. I've just discovered I have two options - slut and desperate."

"I love Halloween."

"So says the very married man." I smacked a hand at his chest. "Seriously Em, what am I going to wear tomorrow? None of this is _me_, but _me_ isn't an option either."

"I'll take you shopping after the game. We'll find something."

"You'll help?" I turned my worried eyes on him, most likely looking all kinds of pathetic. "Like, _really_ help?"

"Oh ye of little motherfucking faith!" He knocked his head against mine. "Sure I'll help. After the game, of course."

"Of course."

Frickin' paintball!

(-)

My ass hurt.

The pellet was green today; much like the now forming bruise was going to be in a few days time.

"Totally worth it!" Brady winked as he walked by, nursing a fat lip. "See ya next week, Bells!"

I glared, semi hoping that Emmett's threat to drop a car on him Monday morning was followed through. The weasel actually remembered which cheek he'd hit last week and aimed for the other one this week.

"You're officially scratched off my Christmas card list!" I hollered after him.

"Worth it!" He threw back.

Ugh.

I climbed into Emmett's jeep and waited, fiddling with his iPod until I found something worth listening to. He was a fan of hardcore rap, the really gritty, underground kind. I wasn't. There was only so much, 'I'm gonna fuck yo mamma' crap I could stand. It made me feel like me ears were bleeding.

It wasn't music.

Emmett disagreed.

Eminem was vocally tearing his mother to shreds when Emmett finally wrenched open the driver's side door and climbed in.

It took us a while to weave our way through the Saturday afternoon traffic and get back into the heart of the city, but instead of heading home, Em followed through and pulled up outside a small shop front called, 'Ricky's Costume Superstore', looking far more excited than a grown man should.

I shook my head.

Figuring Emmett out was like trying to complete an unsolvable Rubik's cube. He had this immense capacity to act like a total goof, there were times where it literally felt as though you were around a hyperactive puppy. And then he seemed to flick a switch, and it was like he became a completely different person. He'd be sharp as a tack, professional and all about business. Hearing him converse with customers fascinated me, he was so confident, so assured in his abilities. Then there were times where his vulnerabilities played out and he revealed his softer nature. He really was a gentle giant and like every other flawed human, Em had his weaknesses. Rosalie, I'm sad to say, was one of them. I hadn't heard a peep out of her, though from the tiny snippets Emmett had let slip, he and Edward had both, 'been torn a new asshole, several _fucking_ times.'

I kind of felt bad about that.

"Ready?" He asked, kicking his door open gleefully.

"Your eyes look very sparkly all of a sudden. I think I'm worried."

Emmett grinned, quirking his eyebrows in such a way that told me I definitely should be.

~*AMtDR*~

"I can't believe I let him talk me into this," I muttered, somewhat petulantly, as I tried to hoist the dress up over my chin, only to then have to tug it back down again when it became too short. This, I had done a few times already. Unfortunately, the material didn't seem to want to stretch. I was considering putting in a complaint.

"Oh hush!" Siobhan scolded me as we melted into the crowd. "You look hot, Bella!"

I semi sneered at the back of her head as I started another tug-of-war round with the lace.

Now, yes, I'll admit it, it was me who suggested the flapper girl costume. I just hadn't suggested this particular one. This was all Emmett's doing. My pick had been absolutely incredible – classy with a slight hint of allure. And OK, sue me; I'd liked the faux fur coat that came with it. The one that nearly reached my ankles. Emmett's choice on the other hand, well, it was different. Black lace, too short (it only seemed much longer because of the fringe), strapless, and basically just too _sexy_ for me to pull off. Throw into the mix fishnet tights, black five inch Mary Jane's, a cigarette holder and a black feather boa, and I was standing at the gates of Hades ready to pee my little girl panties.

"Will you stop that? It isn't going to magically sprout ten inches in length!" Siobhan's tone was playful, with an underlying hint of stress. _Maybe_ I'd been complaining about the dress too much.

"Sorry."

She rolled her eyes. "You need a drink. C'mon."

I didn't argue.

(-)

I slammed my shot glass down and whooped. I didn't know what the others were complaining about; I thought the Sambuca went down great.

I couldn't feel my tongue.

"Hey flapper, take it easy!"

I stuck said tongue out at Alistair, who'd decided to dress up as a Go-Go dancer and offer Tyler all the free dance lessons he wanted. I'd tried to tune him out after that.

"I wanna dance!" I yelled over the music. I didn't wait to see if anyone was following me to the dance floor. Sometimes the mood just takes you – the hell with waiting.

And I would just like to let it be known, that my version of the Monster Mash was _the best_.

(-)

Tyler and I were amusing ourselves by stumbling all the way down Bethune Street and playing Vincent and Mia from Pulp Fiction. The boy could move.

""C'est la vie", say the old folks," Tyler sang.

"It goes to show you never can tell!" I finished.

We looked at each other, ginned, and both belted out, "They bought a souped-up jitney, 'twas a cherry red '53!"

We dissolved into a fit of giggles with Ali and Siobhan sniggering behind us.

I eventually found the house, don't judge me – they all looked the same, and we tumbled in, heading directly down to the kitchen to make waffles.

"This place is amazing!" Siobhan managed around a bite of banana.

We set off the fire alarm twice and the bag of flour exploded.

It was a good night.

~*AMtDR*~

Two weeks later, Vicky and I found ourselves strolling through Central Park with vanilla lattes in hand and the crispy, late autumn leaves crunching beneath our feet. The weather had remained dry, though there was a subtly cold bite to the air that forced us to huddle closer together and tighten our linked arms.

We'd spent the morning at a very chic, boutique-styled salon having our hair and nails done. I know, I know. It was frightfully girly and so not me, but Vicky insisted on some pampering and I'd missed her company enough this last week to shut up and actually go and enjoy the indulgence. My nails were now a light, shimmering gold and my hair was trimmed, layered and healthy again.

Work had been manic for every single employee over at Cullen Architecture from what Victoria had been telling me. While she and James both worked there, they'd hardly seen one another recently. He'd taken to sleeping at the office most nights to keep on top of Edward's still absent body and she was now struggling to stay on top with her boss being away on maternity leave. When they were at home together, the atmosphere was tense and the arguments began.

"It's his mother's fault, old witch that she is. She keeps on asking him why we're still not married yet, which frustrates me and hurts him."

I paused mid-sip to raise my eyebrows questioningly.

She blew out a breath, looking very much like she had the weight of the entire world resting upon her shoulders. "He's asked, a few times. I keep saying no."

"Wait... James proposed?"

This was news.

"Yes. Every six months or so he gets up the courage to ask again."

"Again? Vic, how many times has he asked?"

She tilted her head sideways, looking thoughtful. "Five."

I choked on my coffee.

"I know," she patted my back, nodding. "But I don't want to get married, I don't see the point. We're as committed as we can be. We've been together four years, Bella. We live together, we own the house, we already split everything between us and we've talked about having kids in the future. Why do we need a piece of paper to confirm what we have? It's silly."

"I guess," I responded carefully. "But it's something he wants?"

Truth be told, the whole marriage thing puzzled me. Hell, the whole _feelings_ thing had me breaking out in hives whenever the subject came up, how could I ever understand that level of devotion between two people?

"You know, I'm not even sure he does really want it. I think it's more a case of he sees it as something we should aspire to. He says things like, 'It's the next step, Victoria. It's what normal people do!'" She huffed, rolling her eyes. "What a crock of shit."

"So, is he hoping you'll change your mind or does he not understand that it's not something you want?"

"He's a human being, he sees my no as a rejection, which it isn't, not really. I'm not rejecting the idea of spending my life with him, I'm just happy with the way things are – I'm content. I don't need a ridiculous ceremony to prove that I love him. If it ain't broke..."

"Why try and fix it?" I finished.

"Exactly."

"Is there any way to maybe, I don't know, compromise?"

One wants marriage, the other doesn't. Was there a middle point they could reach amicably, one that would suit both? I wasn't sure.

"Edward doesn't understand why I don't just accept. We both know it would make James happy, but I'd only be doing it for that reason, which doesn't seem like a healthy way to enter into a marriage. But then he's unhappy if we stay as we are. I don't know."

Huh.

"I thought Edward was kind of against the whole white picket fence deal?"

Vicky smiled. "Edward's complicated, Bella. What is it now, eight weeks he's been away?"

"Nine on Tuesday, I think."

"Over two months. You think many people would be willing to stick around in a relationship they only managed to get a few weeks wear out of? This trip isn't a once a year thing, it's constant. He's not home much. I think it took him a while to figure it out, but to want the white picket fence deal brings nothing but heartache when you know that realistically, you just can't achieve it. He says it's not something he's interested in, that he doesn't have time for it, and I think there's a level of truth behind that. But honestly, I know Edward and I know his heart. If he wants something badly enough he'll make time for it."

I hummed my agreement, trying to sound as though I was on the same page when really, I wasn't. At all. I didn't mind Edward being away, he'd always been very open and honest about his work commitments and I accepted them. Of course I did. Why be with a person you can't accept? How ridiculous. Not that we were really 'with' each other. Or were we? Christ, I couldn't keep up.

"Of course," Vicky continued, "when you've grown up in a house with Carlisle and Esme, the white picket fence deal probably seems like some grand lie you don't want to get caught up in yourself."

"He doesn't talk about them much," I thought out loud.

"No, he doesn't. They're kind of special."

"And hard to understand. Surely they can't be that bad? They adopted two small children in need of a good home."

"True, they did. And no, they're not necessarily bad people, just different."

We located a park bench and decided to brave the chilly air for a short stop, adjusting our warm winter coats as we sat down.

"They're social climbers for sure, but whatever anybody may say or think about them, they love Edward and Rose. As kids they were fawned over and never wanted or needed for anything, but people change and grow apart, the goalposts move. Carlisle worked too much and Edward's dropped hints in the past about numerous affairs he had with other women. Esme was left alone a lot to think. I guess bitterness has a way of seeping in when the life you'd imagined leading turns out to be nothing but a successive line of harsh and embarrassing disappointments."

I began chewing my lip as I took in these little slivers of information.

"I think in the end, Esme just sort of snapped. She stopped trying to play dutiful wife and poured her energy into socialising. She changed, too. _Demure lady to Upper East Side dragon_, was how Edward once phrased it." Victoria barked out a laugh before sobering quickly. "He used to idolise her, him too, but Esme? God, Bella, he adored her growing up. But then she flicked her crazy switch and Edward didn't see his mom in there anymore. She's a strange one to be around."

"Do you know her well?"

"I've met her a few times. She's always well turned out, very polished and not a hair out of place. Imagine Kate in her sixties, but less happy-happy and more scary-scary. Life with Carlisle's soured her a great deal."

I shuddered.

"And what about Carlisle?"

"Ah, Dr. Cullen," Vicky paused for effect. "Very much a ladies' man within their circle, he's old-fashioned and as clever as they come. His and Edward's relationship is a little strained. He has these warped ideals about men being men and women being women. Cullen men become doctors; Cullen women stay at home and look pretty. He wasn't happy when Edward decided against studying medicine. He's still not happy about Edward's choices and he never will be."

"But he's so successful."

Vicky snorted. "Bella, Edward may as well be a hippy smoking crack and living in the back of a VW Beetle as far as his father's concerned. He went against _Cullen tradition_."

Okay then...

"Like I said, they're special."

"They sure sound it," I agreed. "How can he not be proud of Edward? Look at everything he's achieved. Was his mom at least supportive?"

She scoffed. "No, Esme really hurt Edward by taking a back seat, she didn't defend his choices, didn't stand up for him. The hypocrisy of it's almost tragically funny. She's all too happy to be seen lunching with her worldly successful son now, naturally. As for Carlisle, Edward's achievements were the 'wrong' achievements." Vicky made a point of mockingly pairing little air quotes with the word wrong. "Not that Edward gives a flying crap about what he thinks anymore. It's no wonder he's fond of you, missy. You're both so stubbornly determined to do everything on your own and in your own way. I think he respects that about you above everything else."

Uncomfortable with the sudden turn into talk-about-Bella territory, I asked, "So Carlisle just cut him off before he went to college?"

"Oh, you better believe he did! Told Edward that he was a disrespectful brat and not to come back crying for help when his 'girlish drawing plans' all failed."

I shook my head, caught somewhere between feeling a strange, stinging sort of hurt on Edward's behalf and being stupidly pleased that he'd shown his father up.

"Well, he sure proved him wrong, huh?"

"Absolutely. He's not only made a name for himself and earned a fortune, he genuinely loves his work. It's no doubt the sweetest tasting middle finger he could've hoped to give the all-knowing Carlisle Cullen. Being proven wrong probably tastes like vinegar to the man."

_Good_, I thought internally.

"Especially considering Edward was always the golden child," Vicky continued without prompting, seemingly on a gossip roll with no plans to shush any time soon. "He never put a foot wrong growing up, he excelled at everything. Rosalie was always the problem child. Edward's _rebellion_ was likely hard for him to swallow on top of her constant shit throwing."

"I haven't heard a peep out of her," I mused. "I was honestly expecting an ambush while Edward was away."

"You won't hear from her. Edward doesn't bite often, but when he does?" Vicky looked at me, shook her head and puffed out a breath. "Scary. Rose will be hiding under a rock somewhere, shedding skin and waiting until he's calmed down before she shows her face again."

"Emmett said she's been giving him and Edward a hard time."

"I have no doubt Emmett's received an ear lashing, but Edward? Not so much. She went too far, and she knows it. I'm not sure I've ever seen him that angry with her before. I swear, Kate nearly had kittens."

"Oh! She sent me flowers."

Vicky rolled her eyes. "Typical Kate. She doesn't like making waves, but she has this incredibly unfortunate tendency to create tsunamis, usually through a severe lack in thought or judgment."

"So she's not a Rosalie in disguise?"

"Kate Denali? God, no! Kate's a total flake. Personally, I never saw the appeal there, but Edward always had a soft spot for her. Perhaps because he was away so much, he never grasped how banally boring she really is. I mean, don't get me wrong; when she's not being a moron, she's usually very sweet and impeccably mannered. But Jesus, I'd find more mental stimulation in talking to drywall."

I smiled. "She reminded me of Nicole Kidman's character from The Stepford Wives."

Vicky burst out laughing, apparently appreciating the comparison. "Yep, that's Kate! That robotic thing she does with her head?"

"You mean the jiggle?"

"Yes!"

"Yeah, I picked up on it. It must feel like a bowl of jelly inside her head."

Vicky mockingly started to wiggle her head about and I couldn't help but laugh. It may have been mean, but it felt good to try and make light of that day and of the crappy situation I'd found myself in, even if it was at poor Kate's expense.

"So," I eased off the chuckles and turned back to serious mode, "what are you going to do about James?"

"Ugh. Perhaps I should fling him in a locked room with Carlisle and Esme, he may come out put off for life, should he survive."

"You know, I once read this really interesting article about a couple who wouldn't get married because they came from such diverse religious backgrounds. Their families were making such a hoopla about the ceremony and how it should be performed according to their own beliefs that the couple opted out in the end."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, instead they decided on this promise ring idea, or something like that. They went out and bought wedding bands, had them engraved with the date and used their wedding funds to go on this amazing world cruise. She applied to the state court to change her last name and for all intents and purposes, they live as man and wife, they just don't have a marriage certificate."

"And how did their families react?"

"I don't think they were happy, but they both seemed to agree that their decision saved a lot of arguments and stress. I don't know, maybe it's something you and James could think about? It's middle ground for you both."

Vicky flashed me a big, bright smile, the kind that warmed your heart and made you smile right back.

"Bella Swan, where have you been all my life?"

~*AMtDR*~

"Bella, can I have a world please?"

I startled, halting my movements and glancing up slowly. My Lit Humanities professor was smiling at me, though I couldn't begin to imagine what she wanted. I nodded carefully, finished packing up and made my way to the front of the class as the swarm of bodies around me slowly thinned and filed out.

"Don't look so alarmed!" She chuckled, her tone kind. "I just thought it best to speak to you privately."

Sinking dread began to seep in. "Did I not complete the assignment correctly?"

I'd spent hours and hours on it over the weekend. While midterms were officially over, our professors were still hammering us with projects.

"Oh, no, your work was near enough flawless, as always. I'll have your feedback ready by the end of the week. No, what I wanted to speak to you about was this." She handed me a folded bit of white paper, that when opened, revealed a name and phone number.

Frowning, I arched my eyebrows and asked, "Should I know what this is?"

"That's the name and contact number of the woman who manages the Butler Library here on campus."

"And I need it?"

"Well, maybe. There's a little part time job opportunity that's just opened up. The hours aren't great and they certainly won't make you a millionaire, but certain staff members from the English department have been asked to put forward suitable recommendations for the position. Your name was mentioned, quite a lot."

I just blinked as she continued packing up her supplies.

"Now I should tell you that the competition for these positions is usually fierce, they don't come up often and the reference that comes with the job is always held in high regard by future employers, so it's definitely something to seriously consider. Ultimately, it's up to Mrs. Adams who to employ, but she and I go way back and I've already spoken to her about you. She'd really like to meet with you."

"Wait... what?"

She wanted me to apply for a job in the Butler library, was I hearing that correctly? I nearly snort-laughed right in front of her. Edward would be just _thrilled_. I was supposed to, 'focus on my studies'. Sheesh, could you imagine that conversation? Scratch that, I didn't even want to.

My professor's facial expression morphed into evident disappointment. "Shoot, please don't tell me you already have a job?"

"Well, no, but-"

"So you'll think about it? Bella, you're the perfect candidate for it and I'm positive Mrs. Adams will love you."

"Look, Clara, thank you for asking but my studies-"

"Have to come first, I know," she interrupted. "This is why the hours are so few, though you'd certainly have the chance to pick up more if you wanted them. And I would much rather see the job go to the likes of you, Bella, a person who genuinely has a passion for reading, than one of the many cretins floating around this place."

I was pretty sure I was gaping like a fish out of water, trying to form words and excuses that I just couldn't vocalise. Working in the Butler library actually sounded all kinds of wonderful, I loved it in there, but the reality of the situation was I couldn't do it, I couldn't accept. I'd made an agreement with Edward.

But the pathetic look on my professor's face had me scrunching up the bit of paper and pocketing it. I gave her a forced smile, nodded and said, "I'll think about it tonight. Thank you, Clara."

It was the least I could do, right?

~*AMtDR*~

_Edward, I got a job working in the Butler library on campus. _

It sounded effortlessly easy in my head. Unfortunately, saying it out loud was proving a little more difficult. Maybe I could email him?

Or maybe not.

"... so I should be home soon, sweetheart," Edward finished.

I'd completely tuned out and simply replied, "Okay."

"Bella, are you alright? You seem, I don't know, far-away."

I was far-away. I was remembering the wonderful smells of paper and books and knowledge that had awaited me earlier on during my first day of work. I was remembering how comfortable it felt to be surrounded by so many great authors. I was remembering how safe Mrs. Adams made me feel, how she reminded me so much of Mrs. Miller, Forks' head librarian. She was stern and cold-shouldered to just about everyone around her, especially the students, but warm and welcoming toward me. We'd definitely clicked.

"Sorry, long day," was all I offered.

_Edward, I got a job working in the Butler library on campus. _

Would he be pissed? Would he be happy? Would he tell me to quit? The latter didn't seem likely, but I wasn't sure. He'd been so adamant about me not working, would he tell me to give it up if I told him about it? I didn't want to, I already loved it. Even if I refused to stop working there, he had so many contacts at Columbia. Would my job still be safe if he called in a favour? I didn't want to acknowledge it as something Edward would do, but who really knew? If he thought it was for the best, thought the job would affect my studies, something told me he may well decide to 'take steps'.

The one thing he'd always asked of me was honesty, to open up and talk to him, and keeping this from him was incredibly dishonest. I didn't want to lie to him. But I wanted to keep my job. It brought back the few cherished childhood memories I held dear to my heart, it represented a sense of independence that my arrangement with Edward had demolished completely and perhaps most sacred of all, it afforded me some peace of mind when I thought to the future. I was securing funds _now_ while I had the opportunity and resources to save what I made, so that I'd be able to stand on my own two feet _then_. My contract with Edward had a sell by date, in less than four years time; I'd be on my own. I needed a nest egg to help me get set up. I refused to even consider the possibility of relying on the architect to keep helping me out when we were no longer contractually bound. But would he understand this?

Damn. What a mess.

Why was this so hard?

"I tried calling earlier; did swim practice hold you back again?"

This was it – my chance, my opening for honesty.

_Edward, I got a job working in the Butler library on campus. _

_Edward, I was late home because I was at work. _

_Edward, please don't get mad, but..._

My mouth had suddenly filled with quick drying cement, rendering me incapable of voicing _those_ words.

Crap!

And instead of saying what I really needed to say, I responded, "I went to the library with Siobhan. My LitHum professor pulled me aside on Monday after class to tell me my assignment wasn't as good as it could have been. It just needed a little polishing. I'll hand it back in tomorrow."

Excellent. Lie to him, Bella. That's not a despicable thing to do to the man who's helped you out so much, is it?

It was scary how easily the lie came to me.

"Did Emmett come for you?"

"No, I just took the subway. I didn't want to drag him out so late."

Edward sighed. "Bella, he doesn't mind and it's the safer option. You never know who's lurking about at night and the thought of you on your own-"

"I was fine Edward, I promise," I cut in. "So you think you'll be back for good next week?"

"I'll definitely be back, I won't miss Thanksgiving. Is there anything specific you'd like to do for it?"

"I've already spoken to Vicky about it actually. You're all kind of stressed with work and travelling so I offered to cook. Do you mind having everyone here?"

"Not at all, just so long as it's alright with you?"

"I've already promised Emmett homemade pumpkin pie, there's no way he'd let me back out now."

The truth of the matter was they were all exhausted. James was practically frothing at the mouth he was so stressed out, Vicky was being pummelled by the HR team's laziness now that the big boss lady wasn't in the office, Edward had been away for weeks (he'd been called back to Sydney and then had to fly to Paris to sort out problems in the office over there. I think he was now in Seattle, though it was hard to keep up), and Emmett went home every night to a less than Dreamworks-like version of Shrek. Considering all of those factors, cooking a turkey and making up some cranberry sauce really didn't seem like too much trouble to go to on my part when compared to their daily routines of late.

"I'll end up having to fight him for a piece."

"I'll save you some and put it aside, how about that?"

"See, I knew there was something about you," Edward joked. "Okay, I need to hit the sack. Sleep well and I'll call tomorrow, angel."

"Alright, you too." I hit the end call button on my cell before he could voice any uncomfortable sentiments and burrowed further beneath my covers.

_Pumpkin pie doesn't remove the lie..._

Oh shut up!

I'd tell him. I would. Soon.

What? _I would!_

* * *

**Story recs:**_  
_

**The Imprint by Kat097**

**Dusty by YellowBella**

**Shamrocks and Shenanigans by Mathisson **

**We Were Here by lola-pops**


	19. Chapter 19

**Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight, no copyright infringement intended. **

**Major girl-crush love to Pixiekat7 for the Beta and Jen for the pre-read.**

**Oh, and a quick reminder. I finally got around to posting the second outtake I wrote in Edward's POV (A Charm of my Own, ****chapter 2)**. I would strongly recomend reading it for a little more insight on Bella - I know there was a lot of struggling to understand her last chapter. 

* * *

"It is not time or opportunity that is to determine intimacy;-it is disposition alone."

~ Jane Austen, Sense and Sensibility.

_Chapter Nineteen_

His name was Jacob Black, and he first introduced himself by asking me, "Do you know how many librarians it takes to screw in a light bulb?"

With a smirk, I'd responded, "No, but I can show you where to look up the answer."

I'd been working in the library for a week now, during lunch breaks, free periods and after class hours. It suited me. Mrs. Adams was a bit of a mad old bat who reveled in playing up to every librarian cliché out there. She was stern, shushed people for blinking too loudly, confiscated cell phones and was queen of the disappointed spectacles-on-the-tip-of-her-nose look. I'd witnessed several huge guys wither because of it already. I thought she was great fun. Having said that, I was never on the receiving end of her look, she liked me. Jacob usually was; she thought he was a nuisance.

I didn't mind his company. I certainly wasn't going to complain about making another friend and Jacob had one of those rare, always-happy-and-smiling dispositions that instantly put you in a good mood. He was tall at around 6'3 and he packed some muscle, but he never came across as intimidating. He was just too, well, nice. He was handsome with warm tan skin, big brown eyes and a kind face for all. But he always seemed to be alone, and I couldn't fathom why. Perhaps like me, he simply preferred it that way at times. Relationships and all their silly social politics could be trying, though Jacob's company was certainly easy and light to keep. As a fourth year History student, he spent a lot of time in the library working and we'd really hit it off, despite us meeting only a few days ago.

With ten minutes to go until my next class started, I shelved the books I was carrying and made my way over to Mrs. Adams to say goodbye. She was flapping a torn book cover at some students and quipping about disrespect for library property. Call me odd, but a wave of calm overtook me as I listened to her prattle on. I'd really settled in here.

"... Two weeks suspension from the library and you will be billed for the damage, young man!"

"Aw, c'mon! I've got an essay to do for like, Wednesday!"

It was Monday today. His chances didn't look good.

Jeez, November 22nd already. Where was the time going?

"Well, you should have thought about that before you went and abused one of my books, shouldn't you? This is unacceptable!"

I couldn't help but chuckle. I was genuinely growing fond of her, especially after she tore Coach Clapp a new one last Friday for trying to persuade me to quit Butler and up my swim hours instead. It was like watching two praying mantises fighting to protect their young. I'd genuinely thought cannibalism may have ensued at one point as a last ditch attempt to problem solve.

"Mrs. Adams?" I called. "I've finished re-shelving the last of the books."

Her head snapped up and her vulture eyes narrowed before softening as they fell on me.

"Alright, Bella dear. I'll see you at four o'clock," she responded gently, before turning once again to glare at her victims. "As for you two, I don't want to see either of you in my library for the next two weeks, you hear?"

"This is so unfair - it's just a book!"

_Oh buddy, wrong answer. _

I left the library in good spirits, but not before witnessing the steam pouring hot and heavy from Mrs. Adams' ears. Maybe the cannibalism had been scheduled for this week, not last.

There was a definite bounce to my steps as I hit the pavement and made my way to class. Edward was due home tomorrow, just in time for Thanksgiving. He'd been gone a whole ten weeks, though it certainly didn't feel so long to me. I was pretty sure James would disagree; the poor guy was slowly going into meltdown mode according to Vicky.

"What's got you looking so happy?"

I jumped as my ponytail was lightly tugged and turned to find Jacob grinning goofily down at me. "Hey! Mrs. Adams is going for the jugular again."

Jacob actually seemed to shrink back ever so slightly. "May they rest in peace."

"C'mon," I elbowed him playfully. "She's not that bad."

"You would say that, you're the only person she likes."

"I am not!"

I probably was.

"Whatever you say, Bells. You headin' to class?"

"Yep."

"Mind if I walk with you?"

"Nope. Oh, and you owe me five bucks. She made it thirteen minutes before ripping into somebody over lunch, not two - coffee stain on the book."

If the job couldn't make me rich, I was more than willing to bet Mrs. Adams' semi-sociopathic tendencies would.

(-)

College and work were done for another day and I was heading to meet Emmett outside the campus gates. He'd be on me like a rash since discovering I'd made my own way home last week (_Thank you, Edward_) and made me swear that I'd call him for a lift, 'any fucking time, Swan'. I wasn't comfortable having to lie to him as well about my job, but fortunately, Em never questioned my activities and assumed assignments and swim practice held me up. I still hadn't been able to tell Edward, I was trying to work up the courage and failing miserably.

Siobhan seemed to be slowly succumbing to frost bite next to me, desperately rubbing her hands together to create some heat. I wasn't feeling the nip in the early evening air quite as much, though that might have had something to do with my beautiful new ivory colored winter coat putting up a strong defense against it. Even when so far away, Edward's obscene generosity seemed to filter to me. It came all the way from Paris and I was feeling grudgingly chic wearing it. It was also pure cashmere, so naturally I'd been living in it. Literally. I only took it off to shower.

Emmett was standing just outside the grounds, looking every ounce the dutiful, heavily built bodyguard. He saw me and beamed, and began to swagger over. "Fuck it's cold!" He exclaimed loudly, startling two passers-by.

I looked over at Siobhan and rolled my eyes, before turning back to the big goof and calling, "Hey Em!"

"Jesus Christ, I hate this fucking weather!" He greeted as he finally reached us, positively bursting with politeness. His Goliath arm reached out around my neck and shoulders and pulled me in for a quick hug. "Good day?"

"Mm-hmm," I nodded, "you?"

"Awesome, someone brought in a Corvette that needs a complete restoration. I get to put Brady on junk yard duty for the next month, at least."

"He must be thrilled."

Emmett smirked, thoroughly pleased with himself, before realizing I wasn't alone. He flicked a finger between Siobhan and I. "You got plans? Did I get the time wrong?"

"Oh, no. Emmett, this is Siobhan. Siobhan, Emmett."

"Connecticut Siobhan?"

"Connecticut Siobhan," she confirmed, almost shyly.

Huh.

"You think you've got room for one more in the car, Em? The straggler needs to go to the market as well."

Siobhan's elbow nudged me. "I can walk or get the subway, honestly, it's not a problem."

"Uh-huh," Emmett shook his head, pinning me with a sardonic look. "I've heard that one before. Car's this way, c'mon."

An hour later, my fingers were fighting with the lock on the door that led straight into the kitchen.

"So, she's your age?"

Confused, I stretched my neck round and asked, "Who?"

I needed to speak to Edward about new doors. None of the current one's liked me, drunk or sober. They made me growly.

"Siobhan."

If I just wiggled it a bit more to the left...

"Uh, yeah." Or maybe the right. Yes, right. Right was correct. "No, sorry, she's a year older, or something." The key got stuck. "For the love of God, _come on!_"

"Here," Emmett's shoulder brushed mine aside as his massive fist slammed against the lock once. The 'click' was immediate. Stupid thing. "So she's what, twenty?"

"In January."

"She seems nice."

"She's great," I replied distractedly, picking up several bags that were trying to split open. I resorted to just flinging them over the threshold. I said I'd cook Thanksgiving dinner; I made no promises about the turkey not tasting like kitchen floor.

"How come I haven't seen her round here before?"

I bent over to scoop up rolling cans and escaping vegetables, setting them down one by one on the counter. Grocery shopping really didn't need to be this hard, I mean, it shouldn't be, right?

I blew the hair out my face and puffed. "Have you ever seen any of my college friends, Em?"

He thought about it. "No."

I rolled my hands in a, 'Well there you go then' type gesture and swept up a stalk of broccoli. Internet shopping was definitely the way to go. The hell with this. "You better go park the car. You'll get in trouble if you're on the street too long."

He didn't seem to hear me.

"Emmett?"

"Yeah?"

"Car. Go park. You'll end up with another ticket."

"Right," he snapped into action, dumping his set of bags down. There was enough food here to feed an army. "No snagging my Cherry Garcia again though."

"It's probably melted by now anyway." He'd considerately adjusted the temperature settings for Siobhan in the car. It was a million degrees inside. I was suffering from heat stroke by the time we'd dropped her back off at campus.

I bustled around the kitchen with easy familiarity as I found a new home for everything. Thanksgiving dinner had at least been taken care of, so it was one last thing to need to worry about. I emptied all the bags and sorted Emmett's food into a pile. I'd had to make room for him in here. He now had his own cabinet, you know, like a faithful pet usually has. I suppose it made sense in a strange way; he was at the house so often he practically lived here. More worrisome was the sheer volume of crap being forced into it – Lucky Charms, Twinkies, Doritos of every available flavor, pretzels, candy bars by the dozen, the list went on. Rosalie didn't like junk food in their house. Emmett didn't appreciate having to live on a diet of rabbit food and oxygen. Ergo, I had the pleasure of playing the 'cool Mom' by letting him keep it all here. Like I was going to moan about his food habits, he was a grown man. I also happened to like Twinkies, usually Emmett's last one.

Cabinet finally fit to burst, I started restocking the freezer.

"Well, you certainly seem to know your way around a little better."

I swear, my feet left my shoes and my head practically made contact with the ceiling. Then I screamed. Or perhaps the screaming came before. It was hard to tell, what with the heart attack worthy panic coursing through my veins.

I'd never realized how apparently fabulous my lung capacity was. I may well have burst an eardrum.

Turning, one hand clutching painfully at the area above my heart, I found none other than the wide eyed profile of New York's finest architect staring back at me, casually leaning against the doorjamb.

Whether it was the shock of seeing him back earlier than expected, the shock of seeing him ten weeks after he'd initially left or simply the slowly diluting fear leaving my system, I didn't know, but I found myself whispering his name like a questioning prayer. The breathy, disbelieving, "Edward?" fell from my lips in a way you'd perhaps expect to greet a ghost.

"Good evening, Miss Swan."

I swallowed, not quite believing my eyes as my heart slowed to a more acceptable human pace. "You're back."

"And out to terrify, or so it would seem. Your ice-cream's dripping."

_My what was what? _

_He was back?_

He was back.

It was then that my hand registered the slight chill. Not only did I appear to have mutant lungs, but I'd just discovered some serious brute force lay within my fingers, as they'd completely obliterated the pint of Cherry Garcia now pooling in my palm. _Emmett's_ Cherry Garcia.

_Oops. _

Stupidly, I looked back toward Edward in a daze, ignoring the _splat_, _splat_, _splat_ sounds that were hitting the tiled floor.

Smiling, he pushed himself forward and advanced.

"I thought... tomorrow."

Coherency check: Big. Fat. Fail.

He plucked the crushed tub from my hand, dumping it carelessly into the sink. "I switched flights."

It was all he offered verbally, though his eyes, those spritely green-green eyes, bore deeply into mine, drilling to consume.

Having him so close, just a touch away, I found myself now thinking that his time away did in fact, feel long. There were subtle changes in Edward. His skin was more tan, his hair was definitely longer, but perhaps most startlingly of all was how worn out and tired those beautiful eyes seemed. While his features appeared typically bright and happy, a result no doubt of being pleased to be home for a short reprieve, he looked like a man who'd pushed his stress levels to the limit and was now in desperate need of a nice long sleep.

Shakily, I lifted and ran my clean hand through his silky hair. "This needs a cut."

Still watching me, he gently pressed his lips to the inside of my wrist and breathed in. "I need to bottle this smell before going away again."

I laughed, not because what he'd said was particularly funny, but because I was currently holding one of his pillows hostage in my bedroom. I just... slept easier with it.

Edward kissed further up my arm once, twice and again, before pulling me into him and wrapping his arms around my waist.

"I'll get ice-cream on your jacket."

"I have others."

"But-"

"And a drycleaner."

"Edwar-"

"And I don't care."

"Okay, okay," I chuckled, gripping onto his back with _both_ hands.

I felt him nuzzling my hair, felt him kissing it, felt him laying his cheek down happily, contentedly. "Hi," he whispered.

"Hi." Maybe I was kind-of-sort-of really smiling, happy too.

Emmett chose that particular moment to burst back through the door, bursting our little moment, our bubble. "You save some ice-cream for me? Oh... Forgot to tell you, Edward's back."

"I can see that, Em, thanks for the heads up."

How it escaped his attention to tell me, I'd probably never know.

(-)

Dinner felt awkward. Like unbelievably, uncomfortably, painfully awkward.

I couldn't quite put my finger on why though.

I made steaks and baked potatoes, Edward opened a bottle of wine and Emmett didn't hear any objections when he made a grab for the largest chunk of meat. I ate like a bird, picking at my food. When Edward wasn't throwing me long looks across the breakfast bar, he was staring at an oblivious-to-it-all Emmett in a way that I portrayed as meaningful, though I hadn't a clue what said meaning was.

"So how was Sydney?" Em asked between bites.

"Exhausting."

"You had to go back to Seattle as well?"

"The new site manager I hired back in August proved himself to be almost as useless as the previous one. Liam was threatening to bury him alive in quick drying cement and then add him to the building's insulation." Edward took a very slow, very deliberate sip of his wine while peering at me over the rim of his glass. "Of course, the enclosure would have to be finished before that could happen, which it isn't, because the engineers refused to work with the cretin. We're months behind schedule."

"Why don't you just put one of your guys up there already? You'd save yourself all the fucking asshole hassle."

Poetic as ever, Emmett.

"The jobs the build creates are good for the local area's economy and good for the company's reputation."

Em shrugged and continued eating.

And then there was silence.

A lot of silence.

Lots and lots and lots of it.

Even as Emmett threw his knife and fork onto the plate, declaring himself finished, the silence just stretched on and on.

Edward hadn't taken his eyes off me for a solid five minutes. I was practically squirming in my seat, anxious and tense.

_Ten weeks_.

We just went back to normal, right? Nothing had changed. I mean, everything had been fine earlier, before dinner. Edward was Edward, I was Bella, and Emmett needed a trough.

Yep, normal.

So why was my heart thundering against my chest all of a sudden? Why did I feel restless, like my insides were tightly coiled and about ready to spring? Why was I so nervous?

Emmett finally broke the silence by offering me a profanity filled thank you for dinner, which I accepted with a smile and a nod of my head. Edward had settled back against his chair casually, running a finger across his bottom lip, and while the action was entirely innocent, natural even, my eyes became glued to the way that finger stroked ever so easily across the soft pink flesh.

"So, anyone up for a movie?"

Edward's eyes flashed toward Emmett and actually narrowed.

I'd never seen him look at his brother-in-law like that before, especially not with so many negative emotions being projected quite openly and all at the same time. Frustration. Annoyance. Exasperation. They were all there and then some.

And that's when I understood.

Emmett didn't like going home, we all knew that. Rosalie was more psychopathic cell mate than loving wife and we understood his hesitation to head home early, to her, the Upper East Side's very own Wendigo. It was normal for Emmett to stall and Edward had always patiently accepted the reason behind him doing so, as had I. Hell, Em and I had gotten into a _dinner and a movie_ routine over the last few weeks, we'd kept each other company.

But tonight it seemed like Edward didn't want to play host. In fact, he looked not only completely exhausted, but also ready to scream, 'Go home!'

Poor Emmett. My heart kind of hurt for him.

Of course, feeling sorry for the big bear didn't do anything to extinguish the growing atmosphere in the room, the one that was palpably uncomfortable.

I stood up and started clearing plates, hoping the edgy mood didn't follow me over to the dishwasher.

"I'm in the mood for some Tarantino. Ed?"

_Scrape plate, rinse, stack. And repeat. _

"I've spent ten weeks travelling, Emmett. I'm in the mood for some sleep."

_Scrape plate, rinse, stack. And repeat. _

And people act like denial's a bad thing. Pfft.

"Kill Bill it is then, it's literally fucking impossible to fall asleep watching it."

I nearly snort-laughed. I was pretty sure my shoulders started moving up and down with the effort it took to keep from giggling.

_Scrape plate, rinse, stack. And repeat. _

"Emmett," Edward responded calmly, the epitome of politeness. "I'm going to kill _you_ if you don't leave my house and let me go to bed."

My lips were pulling painfully.

I found a dishwashing tablet and fired the machine up. With nothing else to keep me busy, I had no option but to pull on my best straight face and head back over to the breakfast bar.

"Oh, I see," Em wagged his eyebrows suggestively, "I'm _interrupting_. Say no more, say no more."

I think Edward's eye twitched.

I'd have been happier with a twitch of my own; instead, I flushed crimson, all the way down to my damn toes.

"Goodnight, Emmett," I ground out, walking toward Edward. I went up on my tiptoes to peck his cheek chastely before excusing myself to take a shower.

_Interrupting_. I'd give him _interrupting_. His Twinkies were mine!

My shower was quick but the insanely high pressure and hot temperature coupled together made my skin feel as though it'd just been put through nine hours of intensive spa treatments. I left my hair to dry naturally and studiously ignored the small pile on my bed, awaiting my attention, as I hopped into some short-short pajamas. I was still ignoring it as I finished off a French assignment that was due tomorrow. I heard the shower being turned on again just as I snapped my French dictionary closed and threw it in my bag, declaring myself one more school project down.

_You can't sleep on top of them..._

I sighed. No, I suppose I couldn't.

Standing, I made my way toward the bed for a first inspection. Two large UGG Australia boxes, one very chic looking bag with elegant French script written on it, a small jewelry box and an envelope propped up against everything else. Because, obviously, an expensive cashmere coat simply wasn't enough already.

_Oh Edward. _

I started with the biggest first. I wasn't so sheltered as to not know about UGG boots, and alright, they were all kinds of amazing, but still, they were too much. I knew I'd never get fully used to his pampering. I slipped the dark brown pair on immediately, reveling in the soft comfort while ogling the black pair nestled within their paper wrappings. Inside the bag was an expensive looking pajama set by some French designer I'd never heard of before. The cream silk pants were full length and came with a matching camisole. I may have changed pajamas. I may have also put my boots right back on.

If this was me taking a stand against Edward's generosity, then I desperately needed to retake the, 'Thanks, But NO Thanks' class. I was failing miserably. My toes were nice and snug, though.

The jewelry box housed a beautiful, yet highly unusual looking thick silver ring. It fit perfectly and the strange vine-like pattern and studded black gems were very _me_. It was an unconventional piece, not pretty in an obvious way, but still striking and most definitely different. Yeah, it had Bella Swan written all over it.

Finally, there was the envelope, that when opened, revealed a –

Oh for the love of... he'd sponsored a crapping Koala on my behalf.

I assumed it was the joke present.

With the shower still running, I figured I had enough time to slip his pillow back into his room, so I grabbed it and pulled out my best stealth moves as I shifted from my room to his.

Edward's bedroom was nothing short of amazing and my sight instantly honed in on the beautiful sail that hung from his ceiling in lovely, curved waves. While predominantly white in color, the old material had seen many a patchwork repair, creating a quilted array of differing blue hues among the vast expanse of white. Since the first time he'd shown it to me, I'd loved this peculiar addition to his bedroom. It was just so _Edward_. He'd bargained the sail from an old oyster fisherman in Bouzigues while on a sailing vacation in France a couple of years back, and it had taken pride of place in here ever since.

As I glanced about, I once again found myself appreciating Edward's small quirks. His room had a very subtle nautical theme to it, from the white walls and navy bedding, to the highly polished, dark wooden furniture and framed pictures and prints of the sea and vacations spent onboard various vessels. However, it was the large, rustic bookcase that always held my attention the longest. It was filled with aged volumes of books, old maritime devices he'd picked up on his travels and images of a life gone by in a blink, but very much enjoyed. It was homey in here, filled with history that I hadn't been a part of, but loved learning all about nonetheless. Every item in this room had a story. To me, it was special ground.

I made quick work of returning his pillow and was nearly out of there, uncaught, when I heard, "I like your boots."

_Damn!_

"Thank you."

"Stealing, Miss Swan? Really, I'm quite shocked."

I giggled, more than willing to play along.

I turned, the picture of innocence. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Mr. Cullen."

His eyes seemed to drink me in as if almost starved and now thirsting for greedy consumption. "Oh, I'm sure you don't. Come here."

His demand was gentle, his face tender, and I felt my body jerk forward to meet him as if lassoed around the waist. I watched as he haphazardly chucked the towel in his hands through the bathroom door, not caring if it landed in a heap or not. His eyes never once strayed from mine.

As I reached nearer, I noticed that the damp from his shower still clung to his hair, that his pajama pants were hung low on his hips, in _that_ way, and how ten weeks had done absolutely nothing to alter how disgustingly perfect his naked torso was. You'd have thought months of eating hotel food would, oh I don't know, puff a person out a little, but not Edward. No. He was still unfairly faultless, locked in an endless cycle of flawlessness.

"I think I like these, too." His pointer finger dragged, feather-like in touch, down the length of my camisole's spaghetti strap, stopping when he came to the delicate pink lace fringing the top of my bust. "They compliment the boots."

"A Koala and sarcasm, you really shopped around."

He smirked, bringing his face down toward mine. "I thought a Kangaroo would have been overkill."

His kiss brushed my lips lightly, the hint of his mint toothpaste still lingering and delicious. As he pulled back, my tongue swept across my bottom lip to taste and savor. His eyes watched the action like a hawk watching its prey, hungry and perched ready to swoop. And oh, how he swept, smiling as his hands cupped my face and his mouth molded to mine again and again.

"Are you skirting your responsibilities, Cullen?" I mumbled around him. "Don't you have some unpacking to do?"

Even as the words left me, my fingers deftly trailed a delicate track down his back and around his sides, feeling the muscles beneath his skin tighten as he shuddered.

"I think it can wait."

"You sure? I wouldn't want the Koala to suffocate."

"It's a good thing I left him in Australia then, because right now," he started walking me backward, back toward his bed, "I would let it."

The back of my knees hit the frame and I tumbled, landing on the soft, downy sheets as my stomach raced to catch up with the rest of my body. The freefalling, flip-flopping sensation had me laughing Edward's name breathily as his form lowered slowly, directly on top of mine. He smiled a smile that lit up his entire face, a smile I'd witnessed so often that seemed to be reserved only for me. I answered that smile with one of my own as I lay there, a mass of easy, elastic giggles and fanned out hair against Edward scented sheets. I kicked off my boots, perfectly prepared to relax and catch-up.

"Hmm, I missed that sound." His words tickled my ear as his hands went straight to my arms, rubbing the length of them, guiding them up, up, up the sheets until they were pinned somewhere above the rest of me.

I became all too aware of his weight, of that safe, wholly encompassing feel of him as he caged me in the most wonderful way. It made me feel small and protected and delicately female, such a stark contrast to how I usually liked to be. It didn't induce panic or fear, far from it. There was just something completely unexplainable about the Edward's weight pressing down upon me. To have this incredibly handsome, lean yet muscled man willingly spreading himself like butter on top of me, well, there just wasn't a way to describe how that really, truly felt. It did insane things to the mind. Outwardly, it may have looked like a dominant move, but I knew better. I knew that with a flick of my wrist, Edward would bend and follow its direction, like a flower desperately seeking sunshine. I knew that if I pressed my hands against his chest, he'd move before I even thought to push against him. And I knew that this was Edward's way of getting me as close to him as he could while still retaining his innocent intent.

His body shifted as his kisses moved back toward my mouth, eventually melting into one long, deep penetration. He pressed further into me as one hand moved down toward my leg, separating it from the other. And then he was there, right there, pushed up against me in every way possible as he came to lie between my legs. My eyes closed and my head tilted all the way back as I absorbed every tingling, breath-stopping sensation. My skin felt alive, bursting into flames and shivers all at the same time as he gripped my thigh and squeezed.

Oh, it felt different. This definitely, definitely felt different. There had been times before when things had become heated and charged and intense between us, but they weren't like this. No, never like this. Maybe ten weeks apart had changed things after all. Time had a peculiar way of moving things forward and unlike before, there was a heavy taste in the air, one that told me we were about to move out of first gear. Some of the roadblocks had been removed, the stoplights flickering from amber to a teasing, desperate green.

I didn't know how to feel about that. I guess I knew it would happen eventually, I'd always known. I hadn't signed up to a _money for coochie hire_ website so blinded with naivety that I couldn't put two and two together and (sort of) make four. But I also hadn't banked on Edward. I'd made no Plan B strategy for meeting a man with whom I'd need extra defensive backup.

So while Edward's hands went on the move again, one going up and the other going down, I was naturally left not really knowing which direction I was going in. I felt like I had an angel on one shoulder, a devil on the other. I was caught between curious excitement and near painful fear. I was scared, and yet I wasn't. And oddly enough, the conflicting swell of emotion seemed to strap me down to the bed in a move that had the potential to turn, at any point, into borderline masochism.

As Edward's thumbs brushed against my bare stomach, an action so subtle it was hard to believe it could illicit much of a response, I sucked in a huge breath and closed my eyes. His nimble digits swept over an apparently sensitive not-quite-but-almost-ticklish area of my skin, and I absorbed the flip and dip dropping sensation as it raced all the way to the base of my back with both a smile and a cringe. It felt torturously good, the way your stomach did when riding a rollercoaster.

When his increasingly heavier breaths fanned against my lips, I parted mine and breathed in, only stopping when I felt him expel again. It was warm and... oh, I didn't know. His mouth closed over mine, soft yet determinedly wanting, just as the barest of rumbles began echoing an escape from his throat. It was quiet, but those vibrations I knew. I'd felt them against my lips before.

A moan.

I wanted to hear it again, though who knew why something as simple as a sound was suddenly important. There was a base instinct inside me whispering, encouraging and willing my body to drag it from him, to tweeze it out into the air so that I could both savor and celebrate it.

I went with it, I listened.

I tensed my legs and caged his hips against me tightly. I ran my hands up each side of his throat, round to the nape of his neck, up through his hair, tangling my fingers in it. I kissed him deeply, trying to fight against an urge that told me to arch my back and smash my chest into his. And there it was. The moan. Louder this time.

Celebration indeed. I think my victory grin stretched from ear to ear. I decided to dust off my long forgotten about ego and boost it five points. For whatever reason, I felt proud, maybe even a little smug.

Edward's lips stilled, his eyes fluttered open.

"Are we sharing the reason for that smile?"

I beamed, unable to stop myself. I fisted my fingers and pulled gently, caught in a state of awe as I watched his head fall into step with my direction, easing back to expose his throat and well-defined Adams apple. And when he gulped and ground out, "_Christ..._", my stomach lurched into an acrobatic routine not even the Cirque du Soleil could have competed with.

"Bella, we should probably stop, sweetheart."

I frowned.

I didn't want to stop.

I sort of liked this. A lot. This natural, almost primal newfound physicality was singing to me, hoping to be explored a little. I'd never experienced this before, this terrifying, but oh so thrilling desire to probe deeper into the depths of physical territory. Edward's touch fascinated me. I could stand it. I could stand it and then some. I found myself almost craving it, wanting to see what other reactions it would breed. But perhaps most dominant was the part of me that made my eyes flash with wonder as I discovered his reactions to my hands, _my_ touch. It gave me a sense of control. Physical control. Something I'd never managed to truly attain.

"You want to stop?"

Edward breathe-chuckled heavily. "No. But while I'm still able to think like a gentleman, I should probably try to act like one."

I thought about that.

Maybe I gripped his hair a little tighter.

Maybe I pulled his head a little closer.

Maybe I whispered, "I don't want to stop."

Maybe the devil on my shoulder was winning, licking its lips and pulsing with triumph as it watched Edward surrender with a prayer-answered look in his eyes.

_Oh yes! _

His lips crashed against mine, dancing a passionate, mitigated tango. But when his hands went to grip mine again, went to drill them into the sheets, my wrists flickered from his grasp and sought to travel instead. If this were a show, the devil definitely wanted a chance to run it. And run it, it would.

So I explored. I ghosted fingertips over strong shoulders, felt the thick chords of his neck, made him shiver as I brushed around his nipples and travelled down the bump, bump, bump of each well defined muscle. I swallowed his every sound and reaction like a starved animal. I put my feet to work, dragging them slowly up his legs and toying with the fabric of his sleep pants to occasionally tickle at bare skin.

In a swift, smooth move, Edward suddenly changed our positioning. No longer was I beneath him, glancing up at him, feeling and touching him from below, no. Now _I_ was on top. Straddling him. Looking down on him. Able to feel and touch him from above. Whether Edward knew it or not, he'd just given me exactly what I needed - more physical control. Being sandwiched was wonderful, but it wasn't progress. Progress meant needing a larger safety net, one that I could manipulate as much or as little as I wanted. And somehow, he seemed to sense that. I'd been given a silent green light, a do as you please pass.

As his hands glided slowly up my back, beneath my silk camisole, he stared hard into my eyes, gluing and fusing our stares together. "If you become uncomfortable, you tell me. If you want to stop, you tell me. If you start to feel panicked or jittery or unsure for _any_ reason, you tell me."

His finger ran the length of my spine, causing my back to arch toward him and my head to fall right, right... back.

_Christ that felt good!_

"Bella?"

"Yes," I swallowed. "Okay."

"I'm going to need a promise, Miss Swan."

His lips were at my jaw, leaving a searing trail of sensation against my skin.

I think my eyes rolled to the back of my head.

"_Bella?_"

"I promise."

Lord, was that really me? That breathy, pathetic, needy sounding thing?

Ah, crap. It so was.

Edward's kiss landed right at the base of my throat, where my neck met my chest. "Okay," he whispered.

His hands disappeared, falling lightly to my hips. His lips departed also, his face pulling back. Silent surrender.

It was all on me.

I relaxed the tension in my thighs first, allowing myself to become fully seated against him, and felt something distinctly male immediately. Honestly it made me gasp, completely took my breath away, actually. It was one of those peculiar moments you have sometimes in life, the ones where you tell yourself it's time to sink or swim. I had two options. Accept that Edward was a thirty-nine year old man with a penis, or I could forever be that little eighth grade school girl, laughing at the pages in the anatomy book while blushing and pointing at all the _rude bits_ I was too embarrassed to properly name.

I decided that nineteen was more than old to enough to finally call a spade a spade. It was time to shelve Bathroom Gate and move the hell on. Edward Cullen, Architect Extraordinaire, had a penis.

There. Acceptance.

To his credit, Edward watched my reaction carefully. Very carefully. Like he was literally deciding on just how many seconds to give me before he cut in and cut off my freak-out.

But there would be no freak-out. No, not tonight. There was nothing to really fear here. There was him and there was me, and then there was the possibility to explore each other a little. Was it a bit scary? Sure. But I think it was a good kind of scary, the natural kind most people probably (hopefully) experienced.

"We can sto-"

I cemented my mouth against his, cutting him off, and really let myself sink into him. Caught off guard, he seemed to take a minute before finally wrapping himself around me, a gentle snake that coiled my body into his. My fingers clasped his hair tightly, my body pulled against him, pulling impossibly closer to him. His hands felt as though they were everywhere, sliding up my back, gripping my shoulders, dipping into the base of my spine, arching my body for me... for him. Heavy breaths were expelled around a tangle of lips and instinct overrode everything else as my lower half surged against the hard length that was between us both. The sensation was unlike anything I'd ever known before, leaving me craving and hungry for more – more of that inexplicably tense tightness we both seemed to be desperately clinging on to.

"Oh, Bella." His raspy words were nothing but extended whispers, the sounds dragging so much they turned into heavy breath as Edward's hands glided toward the tops of my arms, running over my skin and squeezing.

From out of nowhere, a boldness within me bubbled and my arms were no longer wrapped around Edward's head, but reaching for the ceiling. And as though he were a part of my own thought process puzzle, his hands skimmed the length of my arms all the way down to the silk hem at my hips. There was a minute pause in which he pulled back to question with his eyes and in which I responded with the slightest of nods, before his palms glided the material all the way up and over my torso, my face, my arms, until there was nothing, no barrier between our chests.

I held in my breath as the cool air settled against my naked skin, my hair falling strand by stand against my uncovered back. Edward kept my eyes captured, never once breaking the contact as he flung my top to some dark corner of his room. But he did cock his head, he did smile, and his features certainly filled with the sort of emotion I'd come to relate to as deeply affectionate. I couldn't help but smile back, cocking my own head as his fingers dragged my face toward his for a sweet kiss.

What I thought would happen next... didn't. The locker room chatter from my school days led me to expect something very different, led me to believe that hands would suddenly start fondling and tweaking and squeezing, and mouths would start licking and nibbling and sucking.

But there was none of that.

Instead I was held, naked chest to naked chest, left to feel his warm skin against mine, left to experience what it really, truly felt like to have my nipples harden against his hard torso. Everything was calm. There were no hurried actions or desperate, growing needs to sate any building urges. Rather, there was a sense of quiet peace and natural, leisurely acquaintance.

Between long looks and slow, burning kisses, there was hair smoothing and back stroking, but there was nothing overtly sexual, just the popping sparks of sensuality that lingered lightly like frozen raindrops in the air.

I didn't know how long we stayed like that. The only indication of a sense of time came when Edward changed our position again; shifting our strange bubble of space, as he slowly rocked our bodies backward until he was above me once more. Though it didn't feel like he was above me. Rather, it felt as though he were a mere extension of myself, for neither his eye contact nor his body's closeness faltered for even a second. We moved and slithered and seemed to feel as one on the sheets, melting into one another as a whole. I wasn't really sure where his warmth ended and mine began.

My silk pajama bottoms disappeared sometime during a deliciously long, probing kiss. His cotton sleep pants disappeared as his hand ghosted up and down the outside of my bare left thigh, his grasp tightening around it as I sashayed those pants straight off his hips by first using my knees, and then my feet. We were nothing but a tangle of warm, silky limbs, moving and writhing slowly together like a pair of serpents dancing to the folksy lull of a charmer's pungi.

I found that Edward's nakedness wasn't something to become embarrassed about; it was instead, a map to use to navigate. It wasn't something to fear, but something to learn.

And I certainly learned.

Like how he smiled coyly whenever I ran my feet up his legs, past the back of his knees. And how when I pulled his hair, his eyes would close and he'd breathe out heavily, slowly. I found that his head would sink down into the crook of my neck when my hips moved against him. He'd kiss me frantically every time my hands teasingly trailed down his back, further down toward his ass. But the best reaction came whenever my fingers slipped just over his hipbones to toy with the tops of those powerful thighs. He seemed to just stop breathing or blinking or even thinking. He was so still, like he was afraid to move for fear of disturbing what he clearly wished to savor. And I didn't wish to move from them, either. The sheer strength I guessed to be in those thighs, for whatever reason, made me melt into the sheets and bask in some sort of peculiar marvel. I couldn't have put my fingertips together even if I wrapped both hands around them and squeezed for dear life. Maybe it was some bizarre subconscious cave-girl-needs-protecting-by-large-man-with-club crap, I didn't know, but when I looked at my spindly little legs and compared them to his thunderously-massive ones, I felt as if I should have been playing the part in an old movie, the sort where the poor, fragile female came over all a-flutter.

But the learning didn't end with Edward's likes. In fact, I got a good taste of some of my own. I learned that while I appreciated what was happening between us, every wonderful, lovely second of it, Edward's avoidance to touchdown with anything that could be construed as sexual had the potential to drive me insane. And I loved that. When he kissed (tortured) me all the way down to my navel, his lips planted against every stretch of skin _around_ my breasts and I swear, my nipples could have cut frickin' glass. Yet the feeling, that almost borderline driven-mad-because-it's-so-nearly-painful-but-not _feeling_, I craved it, wanted it, hoped it would never end. Every nerve ending in my body felt like an atomic bomb being set off one by one because of soft, wet lips or light, phantasmal fingertips that never really touched, but ghosted, or the sweep of his hair as it coursed along my bare flesh. _Boom, boom, boom._ Explosion after explosion. Nerves were detonated and left to wither in the aftermath of CullenExperiences dot com.

It was an incredible thing to not only learn his body, but mine also. I'd never known how _much_ could be felt before. I'd never realized how amazing bodies could be, how vast their capacities for sensation were – how sensual non-sexual acts could be. But he taught me, the man who'd found me on an explicitly seedy website, the man who'd effectively bought my company for four years, taught me my body. He genuinely wasn't interested in rushing me into a sexual relationship, a wham, bam, thank you ma'am every second evening. All Edward was focused on was acquainting my body with his. Which is just what we did, for hours and hours. We felt and we touched and we just... were.

I drifted off, completely at peace, at Lord only knew what time in the morning. And I drifted in nothing but my skin, with a sheet barely covering my backside, to the feel of lips climbing lightly up my spine.

Just completely... at peace.

* * *

**A few things:**

**I am **_**finally**_** getting around to editing the first few chapters of AMtDR and Americanizing the spelling throughout to make it 'fit' a little better. I'm up to chapter 8 at the minute – it is taking me frickin' ages :( In case anybody noticed and found it odd, the spelling has been changed in this chapter. I'll do a mass re-load of the previous 18 chapters all at the same time as soon I have them polished, just so that there's no weird back and forth, back and forth with spelling and terms throughout the story for any new readers. **

**I've scrapped Inner, Hussy, etc, while doing my edits, and you may have noticed the absence in this chapter. Why'd I do it? Because I would like people to read this story and have it stand on its own, rather than have people read it and think of somebody else's work.**

**I've had a lot of messages from folks asking where else they can read this story should it be removed – I'm working on a blog page for it right now. **

**Fic rec for any angst lovers out there: peristew's 'Hold Me Down'. Effin' loves it!**

**That's all for now folks, see you next time!**

**4****th**** x**


	20. Chapter 20

**Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight, no copyright infringement intended. **

**Thank you to Pixiekat7 for the beta and to Jen for the pre-read.**

* * *

"Obsessed by a fairy tale, we spend our lives searching for a magic door and a lost kingdom of peace."

~ Eugene O'Neill

_Chapter Twenty_

We like to believe that in life, fairytales can come true.

As children, we absorb all the stories and perfect Disney endings we're fed with the kind of naive innocence that never leads us to really question any of it. The world is colorful and bright; full of sunshiny mornings and leaping Bambies. It's a world where a frog can turn into a prince, where good can always triumph evil, and where, dare I say it, love blossoms.

As teenagers, we're so focused on finding ourselves and struggling through the sometimes crazy hormones and time to grow up pressures that we often find ourselves clinging onto those morsels of childhood beliefs. In this world, despite the pressures, there is still that lingering innocence, that tight grip that clutches onto idealism while battling reality. Yes, as teenagers, we're kind of dragged to the plate of truth while still wanting to play pretend.

As adults, we've grown to know that we _should_ now know better. We also know however, that the pretend part? Well, it's just far, far prettier.

Growing up, I never really had any of those perceptions of the world, not after I broke my arm and realized Neverland was merely a figment of someone's imagination, built out of words and printed on the pages of a book. I was a logical child who enjoyed the occasional escape of a fantasy, but always knew it was just that – a fantasy. I was never a dreamer. I had aspirations, sure, but I became aware of the world and its nature when I was really very young. And because of that, playing pretend just seemed vastly _illogical_ to me.

But as I sat on my bed now, twisting my toes through the soft, thick weave of my bedroom carpet, trying to soothe myself through the simple action, I realized the true merits of playing pretend, of taking off in your mind and changing your own story for a little while. It would feel terribly freeing I imagined, to leave burdens and ugliness behind and merely replace it all with beautiful colors and happiness.

_Yes_, I thought, as I began thinking back on my day. _That must be nice. _

~*AMtDR*~

I woke with a lazy smile.

Saturday. It was very early, but it was Saturday nonetheless.

No school, no work, no subway up to Columbia and definitely no rushing about. Absolute bliss. I was smothered in sheets with zero commitments for the day, while the busy city outside bustled around, laboring and loud in its wake. I felt oh-so smug.

December's arrival had brought with it a bitter cold snap that had swept across the city like a blanket of fake welcome. While on the inside the pretty frost dusting everything within sight looked picturesque, out there, the cold bit deep down to your bones, infecting body and blood with a wintry embrace of teeth chattering shivers. But I didn't have to worry about the cold right now. Nope. I was nice and snug.

I stretched out idly, enjoying the tight pull in my muscles, and slowly moved my head around to find a very naked Edward next to me, slumbering away. We did this now, the naked thing. And it was, well, it was alright. It wasn't scary or something to fear, it was simply him and simply me – a simple thing. I had to smile looking at him. With an arm thrown above his head, the other resting across his bare stomach and a slight frown creasing his forehead, he looked perfect for the part in a dramatic play, the kind where the character was all, "Dost thou not know how I suffer so?"

I wondered what was causing the frown.

Sitting up, I rubbed at my eyes and located Edward's discarded shirt lying crumpled in a heap. I got up quietly, moved toward it, and slipped it easily over my head. The fabric felt cool against my just-out-of-bed warmth, but I shook off my shivers and went to use the bathroom. When I came back through, Edward had begun to stir, his beautiful body shifting as though on autopilot toward my side of the bed, reaching out, whether for the warm spot or for me, I didn't know.

I got my answer as his hand shifted up and then down against the sheet once, and then again, as if searching for the body that wasn't there. His head lifted slightly off his pillow next, peering down, his hand stilling over the spot where I guessed my stomach would usually be. It was sort of endearing, watching his early morning fuzz and confusion. I didn't really get to see him like this a whole lot, he was usually always awake before me.

I stayed quiet as he sat up suddenly, batting at his eyes and shaking his head free of sleep. "Bella?" His voice was rough and gravelly, kind of pathetically sweet as it croaked out my name once more.

"Morning, Sleeping Beauty."

His head swiveled to face me and he was all blinking eyed dopey. "What are you doing over there?"

"Hunting geese."

"Hmm?"

I took pity on him, smiled and shook my head. "You want some coffee? I'm making."

"C'mere."

I padded my way over to him and reached for his outstretched hands, only to have my whole body tugged downward. I adjusted, wiggling around some to straddle his hips more comfortably. His fingers went straight for the buttons on the front of his shirt. The shirt I was wearing.

"Much as I like seeing you in this..."

He didn't finish that sentence. Instead, he twisted the last button through the eyelet and slipped the whole thing slowly off my shoulders. Palms slid up my back, pressing me into him, before fingers wound into my hair. His kiss was long and deep, with slipping, teasing tongues and heavy, desperate breaths being taken through noses. He rolled us over, his form coming to loom over me as his hips nudged at mine to part, which they did, because if the past week had taught me anything, it was that my body was all about rolling out the welcome mat for his.

With one of his hands coasting down my side, smoothing over my butt cheek and then travelling further to squeeze my thigh, I thought, _Yeah, Saturdays are definitely the best._

"I'll go for the coffee," he whispered in my ear. "Then we're staying here for the rest of the morning."

"I just asked if you wanted any."

"I'd kill for some, so I should probably start moving."

"Edward, stay in bed. I can go."

He smirked down at my body. "You'll get cold going anywhere like this."

I rolled my eyes. "I can put your shirt back o-"

He pulled away from me, found his shirt at the end of the bed and threw it an impressive distance across the room.

"Edward!" I managed around a giggle.

He grinned, looking young and boyish and utterly proud of himself.

Men were kind of stupid.

"I don't mind doing one coffee run."

"I mind."

"I'll rephrase then. I'm capable of doing one coffee run."

"So am I."

"You're insufferable."

"And you're very naked. And in my bed. So I'll go get the coffee."

"You always get the coffee," I protested. "You should let me bring it to you for once."

He smiled, bending down to plant his lips against mine. "Won't be long."

I watched as he dragged himself out of bed gracefully and walked over to his closet in nothing but his skin. He looked edible, he really did. There was nothing about him that didn't scream _man_. He was hardly bodybuilder size, but he was thick and muscled and powerful nonetheless, perfectly perfect in shape and build. I still hadn't found a flaw.

After pulling on some low hung sleep pants, Edward left the room with a wink, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

Thanksgiving had been... jeez, it had been amazing. For the first time in my life, I felt like I'd spent the holiday with family. Real family, not Angela's because I had no plans and nowhere else to go. It had been like something straight off a Hallmark card with everyone helping to cook and lots of smiles and laughter around the dinner table. James and Vicky seemed to have put their marriage issues aside for the day, getting caught up in the festivities. Emmett and Edward had fought over who got the last slice of pie. And as for me, I'd sat back and just enjoyed it all.

That night, after everyone had left, I gave Edward something I'd been working on, something to say thank you - a huge picture frame filled with lots of individual photographs from our Montauk trip. I'd tried to make the focus about him, about his love for the place and for sailing, so there were lots of beautiful landscapes and natural images of him doing his floaty-boaty thing as the wind rushed through his hair. I'd added the odd couple of pictures of us, but I didn't want him to look at the frame and think, 'That was the escape trip I took Bella on because of all the drama.' Instead, I just wanted him to look at it and remember that he'd been there that weekend, doing what he loved best, and he'd been happy. I'd left the largest center slot free, thinking it would be nice for him to add one of his own pictures, to frame one of _his_ happy memories from the trip. I'd been somewhat stunned the following day having returned home from some Black Friday shopping with Vicky, to find that he'd hung the frame directly above his bed. I was even more stunned to see that it was my face smiling back at me front and center.

I'd frowned and said, "That slot was meant for you."

"It is for me, Bella."

"No, I mean I wanted you to put in your favorite photo, a sentimental one or a good memory, something you loved about the trip." Y'know, like a pretty sunset or his boat all shiny and gleaming against the crystal water. Not me in a two-piece lying next to the shore, smiling really hard back at Edward and pretending to act like I wasn't getting sand up my crack. The sensation had certainly been... different.

He'd given me a really odd look, muttered something that sounded an awful lot like, "I did", and asked what I wanted to do for dinner.

The week after Thanksgiving had been quiet. I went to school, I worked in the library, I invented some new lies to cover for my working in the library. I had a mid-week night out with my college friends, Jacob and I actually left campus together once and went to the movies, oh, and having waited until Edward got back from his trip to tell him that I'd aced all of my midterms, we celebrated in style. We watched old movies in bed with champagne and chocolate cake.

There were crumbs everywhere.

We rolled around in them and didn't care.

Edward was back in the room with steaming mugs of goodness before I knew it, and I reached for mine the way a toddler would reach for candy, all flexing fists and gimme-gimme-gimme.

Edward held the mug up in the air, just out of reach. "Something you'd like, Miss Swan?"

I glared, more serious than playful. Morning coffee was important, so much so that I'd probably sacrifice cute, fluffy bunnies for mine.

Hey, we all had our quirks.

There was also the added matter of me becoming utterly spoiled with morning coffee wakeups these past few months, courtesy of the architect.

Hey, he made the monster, he had to deal.

"You're messing with the wrong caffeine addict, Cullen."

There was definite mischief in those green eyes as he teased, "Come and get it."

"I'm not opposed to tickling you to the point of first degree burns. You know that, right?"

He didn't budge, although his eyebrows quirked, possibly in challenge.

Oh buddy, challenge accepted.

I slipped to the edge of the bed, placing my feet lightly on the floor, either side of his. His tall form towered above me, the waistband of his sleep pants directly in line with my eye level. I was facing off with the terrorist. Literally.

How apt.

I smirked up at him, already feeling victorious.

"Edward, you know that spot right around..." I used my pointer finger to jab at the exact area of his inner thigh, "here? The one that makes yo-"

My coffee cup appeared right in front of me. "You don't fight fair."

I took it and offered him a mwah-ha-ha-ha riddled, "Cheers!"

He looked put out. Poor thing.

My coffee was delicious.

(-)

"Bella?"

"Yeah?"

"Where are you?"

"Closet!"

I couldn't find one of my black Ugg boots. This was the problem with having an obscenely large closet that seemed to fill all by itself. You could find nothing.

I had on my black leggings, my new overlarge red sweater that hung off my shoulder, now I needed my other crapping boot. Damn Victoria for trying to make me coordinated when it came to stupid stuff like colors and what went with what and shoes that actually matched. So time consuming!

Edward's head appeared around the door. "You lose your boot again?"

I huffed out an exasperated, "_No!_"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did your boot, the one that hates you, run away again?"

I huffed out an exasperated, "_Yes!_"

"You want some help?"

I huffed out an exasperated, "_Please!_"

Edward found it within, oh, three seconds, which made me want to kiss him and beat him with it simultaneously.

The boot went on. Outfit complete. Maybe I'd just live in it for the rest of the week, you know, save on time.

"So," I brightened instantly, "where to?"

"Lunch?"

"God yes, I'm starving!"

(-)

How "lunch" turned into a swiftly scoffed pizza followed by ice-skating in Central Park, I will probably never know.

I was marginally less horrible at it than I'd originally thought I would be. Okay, that's not true. I sucked, but I was trying. And it was fun. A lot of fun.

We were both red cheeked and nothing but giggles as we made another appalling lap around the rink, stumbling with one foot going faster than the other, pretty much constantly. Edward was equally as bad as I was and truthfully, it was endearing to finally find a fault.

"Right, left foot first," he tried to direct.

"Wait! What do you mean? Left or right first?"

"No, Bella," he laughed. "I meant, _right_ – left foot first."

"Right and then left?"

His chuckles deepened.

"What?" I exclaimed, my indignant tone becoming completely overshadowed by my laughter. "Why are you laughing? What's so funny?"

"My God, whose idea was this?"

"Yours!"

Edward's shoulders started moving in sync with his chortles. "Jesus. Your GPA's never dropped below a 4.0 and I build skyscrapers. How is it we're so bad at this?"

"We're not that bad."

Edward gave me a look.

"Okay, alright," I held up my hands, lost my balance and started tap-dancing against the ice. I grabbed a hold of Edward's arm to steady myself, thus making him lose his balance as well. We landed in a heap. A very, very sore heap. "I admit it, we're terrible."

"Absolutely atrocious." He kissed my nose before detangling his limbs from mine and helping me up.

We both agreed to give up for a few minutes and take a breather, you know, give the bruises time to turn black before we gave it another shot. We made our way over to the side like a pair of newborn deer, arms and legs stretched out wide while we both hollered, "No, don't hold on to _me_!"

Edward slammed into the side first. I slammed into him. There were umphs all around.

"I think I'm scared to go back out," Edward admitted, somewhat seriously, as he wrapped me in his arms.

"You can stand at the top of a building site spanning over one thousand feet. I'm pretty sure you aren't scared of anything."

His arms tightened around me. "I'm scared of a great many things, Miss Swan."

The way he said that made me frown, like there was some deep meaning behind those words that I'd missed entirely. But I didn't get the chance to question them, not when his Blackberry started a shrilling tantrum that refused to be ignored.

So as Edward fumbled around in his coat pocket for the intruder, I figured I'd give him some space to take the call. I'd try the skating thing solo and hopefully not die.

As I heard the ringing cut off and Edward's pleasant greeting, I noticed how beautiful the park was in winter. There was a definite Christmas-is-coming glow around the place that lit you up inside with a childlike anticipation. The trees were all bare but here on the rink it felt very cozy, what with the large buildings in the distance boxing everything in like a pair of warm arms shielding you from the worst of a storm. People of all ages on the ice positively shined with happiness, whether it was the shy kind coming from the couples who seemed to be on their first date, or the proud kind coming from the parents who watched as their little ones managed to get three paces ahead on their own, right before butt planting it to the ground. Large groups of friends laughed and cheered on as some the boys tried to pull off Axel jumps and failed miserably, and Grandparents barked out orders to older siblings to help the younger ones from the sidelines. Every now and then, someone with real skating ability would whizz on by, so elegant and graceful in the way they moved and floated through the air. Everyone seemed in good spirits, out to brace the cold weather with chunky winter coats and fluffy earmuffs to protect them.

I found myself becoming a little melancholy as I looked all around me at the different faces, from young to old. These people, they were living lives I never had – would never have. My background wasn't shrouded in loving memories of weekend daytrips with my parents, I couldn't reminisce about a large friendship group and all the silly crap we used to pull back in high school, and even looking at the families kind of stung, because I doubted that would ever be me. I hadn't done things the normal way, and even though I knew to my very core that the usual way genuinely wasn't for me, something pulled in my chest and told me I'd lost something on a far greater level, something I would never find. Because I hadn't had the chance to do the normal, run-of-the-mill stuff in my past, and my current future outlook didn't include any of the regular stuff either. And it's not that that really bothered me as such, it was more like realizing for the first time just _how_ vastly different my path in life was to everybody else's. There was nothing wrong with my path, but looking at theirs made a tiny voice inside me ask, "Oh, but what about the what ifs?"

What if I'd had the kind of father that picked me up after school and took me with him on his fishing trips?

What if my mother had been warm and kind and loving?

What if I'd been popular at school, just one of the in girls who got invited to the parties and sleepovers?

What if everything had been different and I'd gone to college as just another ordinary student getting into lots and lots of debt?

What if I'd met a guy at school my own age that brought me ice-skating on our very first date?

Strange. Standing here, I knew I wouldn't change anything. But still, the what ifs were there, would probably always be there. I guess that was just human nature though, wasn't it? We were all the sad little paupers looking in at the Bakers window, thinking of how different things would be if we had what we didn't.

I think the truly comical thing about it all was how when I looked back at Edward, I saw just how many people looked at him a beat too long, how many people stared at him and seemed to question their own what ifs. And who knew, maybe there was a person on the rink today watching him and I laughing and smiling at one another while thinking: They look happy. I wonder what it's like to be them.

Shaking myself out of my musings, I made my way back over to Edward, who ended his call and slipped his phone back into his pocket.

The smile he gave me was tight.

"Everything alright?"

"My mother."

Oh.

What I wanted to ask was, "Has Rosalie escaped again? Is she at the top of the Empire State Building eating planes and terrorizing the world?"

Instead I asked, "She okay?"

"Uh," he rubbed the back of his neck. "She's invited us to dinner. Tonight."

I slipped and fell flat on my ass.

I claimed loss of balance again.

Not shock.

Or fear.

(-)

As I glanced up at the enormous five storey Sutton Place townhouse, I found myself gulping rapidly. I saw nothing but dollar signs flashing in front of my eyes. They may as well have been incorporated into the masonry work, for the place just screamed money-money-money. Edward's house wasn't like this. Edward had a home. This didn't look like a home. It looked a little like a shrine to all things that could be bought with a black American Express card.

It intimidated the crap out of me.

The monstrosity glaring down at me was located on the east side corner of Sutton Place, right in-between 57th and 58th Street. It was very much _Sutton Place proper_, spanning only two blocks in length with a zip code price range of millions to _millions_.

The buildings on either side of the street were a collective mix of single red and brown bricked town homes and much larger co-op apartment structures, but they all had one thing in common. They all catered to the very wealthy. There were trees lining the spotless pavements, trees I imagined would look wonderfully cheerful in the spring but now looked spooky and twisted, less a friendly welcome and more a careful warning. Where street parking was allowed, town cars and limousines waited on standby for the Saturday evening pick-ups and drops offs to sophisticated events where I had no doubt the Dom Perignon would flow freely. There were doormen standing at the entrances of every luxury apartment complex, doing their gentlemanly thing for the people who exited without manners or a kind word, seeing right through the poor guy who'd raced ahead to open the door for them.

Frankly, it was a different world, and I knew I was probably being unfair in my judgment of it. But I couldn't help that. With everything I'd heard about Edward's family, my defensive hackles seemed to be rising instinctively and all on their own.

I'd gotten out of Edward's Mercedes so that he could carefully maneuver himself into a tight parking spot and once again, I picked at the imaginary lint that wasn't on my coat. I couldn't seem to stop doing it. I'd put on a plain but pretty cream dress that had a pleated skirt, black tights and my new black suede knee-high boots. I didn't know why it was important, but I wanted to sit through this dinner knowing the clothes on my back were bought with my money, not Edward's. I sensed they'd already know that I didn't come from some well-to-do elitist family, so I'd reasoned that I would much rather sit through this dinner as the pauper in her own clothes than the pauper dressed up as a rich girl.

"Bella, you're fidgeting again."

I blinked at the sound of his voice behind me, though I couldn't pull my eyes away from his family's imposing house. Wringing my fingers together, I whispered, "Sorry."

"Bella?" Edward came to stand in front of me and carefully prized my hands apart, squeezing them gently in his own. "If you want to go home, we'll go home. I told you already, we don't have to be here. Believe me, I can think of at least ninety other things I'd rather be doing right now instead, some of them quite painful."

My pathetic laugh sounded more like a whimper. "I'm nervous."

"I know."

"I'm really, really nervous."

"I know." Edward cupped my face in his hands, his thumbs smoothing over my cheeks. "But please try not to be, I'm right here with you. Just say the word and I'll take you home, okay?"

"Okay."

We'd been over this more times than I could count, with Edward drilling the same words into my head over and over again. He hadn't wanted to come; it was me who'd suggested we probably should. 'Cause you know, I'm just a frickin' genius.

We made our way up the steps hand in hand and Edward rang the bell. In no time at all, a tall, balding older man in a pressed tailored suit was opening the door, smiling warmly at Edward and offering his hand, which Edward shook with friendly familiarity.

"Mr. Cullen."

"Arthur, good to see you."

We stepped over the threshold and the door was closed quietly behind us.

"And this must be the lovely Miss Swan?"

I smiled, because frankly, what the hell else could I do, and was grateful when the man seemed to sense my hesitancy to touch him and merely smiled back at me. Edward helped me out of my coat and handed it to the guy, who then led us deeper into the house.

"Dr. Cullen is on a conference call right now, but shouldn't be much longer," Arthur spoke politely as he guided us, sure and confident in the steps he'd no doubt walked a million times over. "And Mrs. Cullen rang to apologize, she's been held up at a charity event but said to assure you she was doing her best to hurry home."

The heels of my boots clicked and clacked against a solid marble floor as we walked into a large foyer, one that was decked out in various shades of creams and blacks and metallic's. The accents were gilded and the furniture was all spindly French chic. There were expensive portraits hanging on the walls, a beautiful crystal chandelier dangling from the high ceiling and the most elaborate gold and black railings running up either side of a polished granite staircase. The more I saw, the more I felt like as ink smudge smeared across the glossy pages of some luxury home and lifestyles magazine. It was truly beautiful in its magnificence, but it wasn't Edward's house. There was no warmth, no life here. Everything felt cold and very still, frozen in place.

The decor continued in much the same fashion as we were taken into a sitting room, the only differences being the heavy drapes that were hung over the floor to ceiling windows and the roaring fireplace at the room's heart, the flames of which offered up the first real slice of heat in this picture perfect house.

Arthur's arm extended out in the direction of a very fancy silk covered chaise lounge. "Can I offer some refreshments while you are waiting?"

My eyes zoned in on a portrait hanging between two windows, a portrait that immediately had my attention and made me forget about my nerves. Slowly, I untangled my hand from Edward's grasp and allowed my feet to carry me toward it.

"Bella sweetheart, would you like some wine?"

I wasn't really listening. My eyes were totally transfixed.

"Bella?"

My feet stopped. My eyes squinted. A smirk began tugging at my lips.

Ha!

I turned back toward Edward, feeling the corners of my eyes crease the bigger my grin became.

"My my, Cullen," I shook my head for effect. "What a mighty fine geek you made."

Arthur's professional edge slipped momentarily as he snorted and said, "Oh, I like her."

Edward rolled his eyes. "Wine?"

"Please."

"Two glasses, Arty, though make mine a small one, I'm driving. And for the record, you're supposed to be on my side, Judas."

Arthur schooled his expression, though his eyes were definitely twinkling with amusement. "Right away, Sir."

Edward waited for the man to leave the room before quickly and playfully defending, "I was not a geek!"

"Oh-oh you so were!"

"I was not!"

"Look at this!" My pointer finger jabbed at the airspace behind me. "Suspenders. And braces." My eyes narrowed teasingly. "I knew those pearly whites were too good to be true!"

"I'll have you know the fifth grade girls loved those suspenders."

"I'm sure the fifth grade boys did, too. Extra wedgie pulling power."

"You're mean, Miss Swan!"

I just couldn't help laughing. "I'm sorry, it's just... look at you! You're all flawless and pretty and it's unnerving. It's nice to know you weren't always so perfect."

Which was a serious freakin' understatement, let me assure you. The architect, circa 1981, was a total bully magnet.

Poor Edward.

He came over to me, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "I'm not perfect."

I gave him a look.

"I can prove it."

"You have more scary pictures?"

"Lots more," he wagged his eyebrows. "Care to take a look?"

"Silly question."

"Promise not to leave me?"

I buried my head into his chest, my shoulders jerking from the force of my sniggers.

"Your wine, Mr. Cullen."

We both glanced up at Arthur, whose old, wrinkled eyes were still shining with an understated sort of delight. We took our glasses with thanks and Edward led me from the room into another across the foyer, flicking on the lights as we entered. I guessed it to be a music room of sorts, what with the great grand piano sitting proudly in one corner, and a striking antique harp in another. It wasn't the instruments Edward was interested in showing me, however, as he guided me toward a long cherry oak sideboard crammed front to back with old and new photo frames.

Strange. From what I'd heard about them, Dr. and Mrs. Cullen hadn't struck me as an overly sentimental pair. I'd been prepared for the odd doom and gloom family painting, but not a family history that went from very old black and white to recent digital color. Yet it was all here, even a professional photograph of Emmett and Rosalie on their wedding day. I picked the frame up, noticing how Emmett looked as if someone had just handed him the moon. And Rosalie, oh, she looked happy, too. What had happened to that, I had to wonder.

I replaced the frame, my eyes instantly finding baby Edward by those lovely jade pools I now knew so well, despite the crappy quality of the older picture. He was a cute baby – a ridiculously cute baby.

A car alarm blaring into the night suddenly snapped me out of my thoughts and Edward's irritated groan was deep and filled with a whole lot of oh-for-God-_sake_.

Kissing the top of my head, he muttered, "And that's why the Jag stayed at home. I'll be back."

Nodding, I mumbled an "Okay" before becoming distracted by the photographs once more.

There were so many. Admittedly, the majority weren't very natural images, but posed for professional ones. I was bewildered to see graduation pictures for both of Edward's degrees amongst the collection and it wasn't until I started looking much closer that I finally started to see a pattern.

Every person in every picture was neat as a pin.

Every person in every picture was either beautiful or accomplished or successful.

There was Edward playing the piano, Edward playing that harp, Edward at school award evenings accepting prizes, Edward as Valedictorian, Edward showing off his degrees, Edward standing outside his company's building on what appeared to be the grand opening day, Edward and... Kate – the glowing , happy, prefect couple.

Huh.

I got the distinct sense this was much less a proud familial shrine and more a subtle we-only-produce-the-best showcase. And I couldn't put my finger on why I thought that, I mean, most parents would lovingly want to show off their children's achievements, right? But it was all a bit false, not quite believably complete. Where was Edward out riding his bike or playing ball with his friends? Where were the photos from birthdays and vacations and Easter egg hunts, the cheesy Christmas holiday cards that got sent out every year? Weren't they just as important, just as sentimental as the piano recitals and the graduation ceremonies?

Perhaps not. What did I really know about it anyway, my parents weren't exactly Kodak friendly people. My father mounted stuffed fish on his walls and my mother was more a fan of personal decoration.

I heard Edward's footsteps slowly approaching as I picked up the photograph of his first graduation. God, he was only a couple of years older than me in the picture. "I see you grew out of the suspenders."

I sensed the presence behind me and turned, more than ready to roll my eyes at everything else he'd unfairly grown out of, when I noticed the eyes staring alarmingly close down at me weren't Edward's kind green, but a stranger's frosty blues.

Startled, I felt the pricey, solid silver frame slip through my fingertips. In a swift, smooth move, the man's hand shot down and saved it from what would have been a very loud, very shattered end.

"I can't imagine my wife would be happy to lose this one."

Dr. Cullen.

His proximity felt like a nightmare come true. The nearness, his nearness, was far too close to be considered acceptable in my books. Edward stood this close when he wanted to kiss me. The intimate lack of space or distance this stranger was forcing on me set my teeth straight on edge.

"I-I'm sorry. I thought you were..."

He raised his eyebrows. "Yes?"

I cleared my throat, glanced toward the door, glanced back, and tried not to cringe.

His platinum blonde hair was lightly streaked with grey and his facial features were sharp, almost unnervingly hawk-like. The striking pigment of his crystal blue eyes shone bright with a shrewd kind of intelligence, one that made me feel like a dribbling toddler stacking alphabet blocks in the wrong order. He wasn't an obviously handsome man, not in the way Edward was. Instead, there was a subtle beauty to his looks, one that was no doubt enhanced by his apparent intellect. He wasn't as tall as his adopted son and his frame was certainly thinner too, yet there was a silent, almost dangerous strength that radiated off him in waves. He was a dominant figure with a quick, sly edge.

He was an imposing man to have to look up at, the propinquity of his looming form not helping matters any. My crazy switch felt like it was getting ready to flicker on, gearing up for the returned curtain call of _She's Gonna Blow_.

Oh, I wished he'd move back a little.

"You," I began in a shaky voice, "must be Dr. Cullen?"

His eyes seemed to flash and I found myself taking in a deep breath. The sharp, mixing scents of cigar smoke and extra strong mints instantly assaulted my nose and travelled down the back of my throat.

"What an astute observation," he responded dryly, leaning further into me as he set the frame back down onto the sideboard. I moved with him, literally jamming myself against the piece of fine furniture at my back, the wood cutting painfully into the base of my spine.

_Please don't touch me. Please don't touch me. Please don't touch me. _

He took a small step back, like, infinitesimally small.

"And you must be Miss Swan." It wasn't a question, but a statement.

"Um, yes," I whispered as I attempted to straighten. What was the correct protocol here? I wasn't exactly up to date on meet the parent's etiquette. All I could manage in the end was a quiet, "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Is it." Again, there was no hint of a question mark tacked on to the end of his words.

I heard the front door open and close, shortly followed by voices and that tale tell click-clacking of heels on marble.

"... it's only a car, Edward. Really."

"A car with a rather large dent in it, Mother."

"Well call that mechanic then."

"It looks like I'll have to. And saying his name out loud won't make you break out in hives."

"We'll agree to disagree. Now, where is this girl I've heard so much about but seen nothing of? One would think you were trying to keep her from me."

"One would probably be correct, so behave. And like Emmett, Bella has a name. Please use it."

"Bella?"

"Isabella."

The woman, Mrs. Cullen, made a noise, which if I were to judge, meant my name was somehow wrong. "Marginally better."

"For the love of _God_," Edward sighed, clearly frustrated. "I will happily take _Bella_ home, Esme. Cut the crap."

"Language!" She was quick to admonish. "Now where is she? And don't think for a minute I haven't noticed that tan, Edward. Honestly, did you douse yourself in cooking oil before leaving the hotel room each morning?"

"Australia in the summertime generally means exposure to the sun."

"Are you being smart with me?"

"One of us should probably attempt to be. You play house to nothing but silly."

I didn't quite know what to make of the back and forth exchange. It was all a bit bizarre. Edward always described his mother as a, what was it? A snobbish old bat? And I could understand why, having heard all of that. Yet there was a suggested affection in her tone when she spoke to him, like this bickering was just their norm. And perhaps it was.

What came striding into the room was everything and nothing I had expected. She was dainty, almost frail looking. But with her caramel colored hair pinned tightly up in a bun and a pair of hazel eyes you just knew missed nothing, she was silently fierce, a sleeping dragon. It seemed like the wind could knock her over in those monstrous high heels. Her mint green Chanel suit was perfectly straight, not a crease in sight, and the string of elegant pearls at her neck didn't seem to move at all, perhaps for fear of reprimand. There was a distinct air of importance in the way she moved, but there was grace and poise there too. She was a lady second and a perceptive player of the highest order first. She was sort of frightening to be honest, at total odds with her petite frame.

"Carlisle, don't crowd the girl!"

Again with the girl. That would surely get annoying real quick.

Edward clapped eyes on me immediately, his gaze narrowing and slipping toward his father as he noticed the lack of space between us.

"You're looking especially terrifying this evening, my dear," the doctor drawled to his wife as he finally stepped away from me. "Edward."

Edward didn't return the greeting; he did however continue to level the man with a stare that if turned on me, would make me feel all of an inch tall. There was nothing but barely contained animosity in those green eyes.

"Miss Swan," Esme Cullen stepped into her husband's previous space and offered me her hand, "I've heard nothing but tales of you. Welcome to our home."

_Smile – say something nice!_

"Oh, thank you. It's... lovely to meet you."

Dr. Cullen snorted derisively.

Maybe that was wrong thing to say.

I lightly placed my hand in hers and bit down on my lip to stop from screaming at the contact. She just about crushed my bones.

There was nothing frail about Mrs. Cullen, apparently.

"Well, I believe dinner is ready and I must say, I'm quite looking forward to picking your brains, _Isabella_."

My smile felt like more of a cringe.

I wanted to go home.

* * *

_To be continued..._


End file.
